Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Twilight of the King (1)
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*
The walls of the corridor, lavishly embossed with legends of gods and heroes, flickered with an ominous hue under the green glow of mana vision.
Fernandez and Kirhas advanced down the hallway without hesitation, hands resting on their sword hilts. There were no signs of life, and the thickening concentration of mana was guiding their path.
The corridor was shrouded in a haze, as if blanketed in mist, due to the dense natural mana.
However, Fernandez relied on mana vision with his senses sealed off, illuminating objects around him, while Kirhas perceived the world through her innate senses.
Thus, the dark corridor below the waterline, slanted and foreboding, posed no obstacle to them.
From the moment they descended past the waterline, the deep, muffled sounds of the ocean depths filled their ears.
“...Benefactor.”
Kirhas's pupils sharpened. She gripped the hilt on her sword belt tighter and stepped in front of Fernandez.
At that instant, a blue flash slashed across her feet.
-Sring.
At the end of the corridor, before the massive doors of the sanctuary, stood an elf. With a black eyepatch over her left eye, she gazed at them gripping her sword hilt as if she had never even drawn it.
The overwhelming pressure from a master swordsman at her peak emanated from her, along with the sharp sword aura unique to elf swordmasters.
She was a swordswoman who had reached the realm of manifesting mana within her body through imagery. The elf swordswoman's eyes opened.
Her sharp, green-glowing, emotionless pupils scanned Fernandez and Kirhas before closing again. She slowly adjusted her stance.
“If you cross that line, I will cut you down.”
“I have come carrying out orders directly from the Serpent King. Wild Prince. I am Angelo, Inquisitor of Beitasser.”
With those words, her pupils narrowed slightly.
“I have heard tales of you. But you are not permitted entry. If you have a letter, hand it over.”
“Do you have the authority to verify the Serpent King’s personal missive?”
Wild Prince. The mightiest riders among the elves. In human terms, she held authority and skill comparable to the royal guard knights.
Facing such an opponent, Fernandez swiftly calculated his available options.
His condition was at its worst due to backlash, his internal injuries untreated. The Bronze Throne was nearly overloaded. Meanwhile, Kirhas was still far from reaching that realm...
-Step.
Kirhas took one more step, crossing the line the elf swordswoman had slashed. At the sight, the elf's brow twitched.
“...Was my warning mere bravado?”
Even with the Demonica reflexes Fernandez possessed, he couldn't track the incoming slash aimed at Kirhas's nape.
-Clang!
Sparks flew as the clean trajectory of the strike halted abruptly at Kirhas's wrist. The elf swordswoman sheathed her blade in an instant and resumed her stance. Her expression grew serious.
Kirhas had barely drawn her blade from its scabbard at imperceptible speed to block the attack.
Against foes superior in strength or technique, Kirhas was still of little help.
Yet she harbored a 'talent' that Fernandez lacked, dormant within her. The seed of an absolute being, forged through countless brushes with death in her past life, resided firmly in one corner of her imagery.
Great Chieftain Kirhas Hearttaker. From slave of a heretical sect to ruler of the western great wilderness. Her life had always been one of unceasing struggle.
Was her realm the product of experience? Or the fruit of talent? Fernandez couldn't be sure. But in this moment, gazing into Kirhas's sharpened eyes, he realized.
Her technique was still immature. Thus, she couldn't face opponents who overwhelmed with skill.
Her strength was still lacking. Thus, she couldn't face opponents who dominated with raw power and physique.
However, her reflexes. Her talent and senses were like a peak just beginning to emerge. Her innate qualities...
Were in perfect synergy against an elf swordswoman whose realm was decided by a single exchange!
After a brief silence, the elf swordswoman's lips twisted.
“An impressive prayer. I am Meladia, holding the third seat among the Wild Princes. And you?”
Kirhas glanced at Fernandez with uneasy eyes. Burning pride and ambition flickered in her gaze.
‘Please allow it.’
Fernandez nodded. A bright smile lit Kirhas's lips.
“...Kirhas Hearttaker. Torchman of the Inquisition. And...”
Once more, Kirhas glanced at Fernandez's eyes.
“The retainer of this lord here.”
“...To be precise, I too am a retainer of the royal house.”
Battle lust gleamed in Meladia's eyes. She looked at Fernandez and said,
“Go. My lord. I permit the king’s audience.”
-Shing.
She exhaled deeply and lowered her stance. With the expression of a beast poised to pounce, she locked eyes with Kirhas. Heavy sword aura descended, suffocating the air.
“Benefactor. I’ll follow shortly.”
“Don’t get hurt. Kirhas. Your body is my asset.”
“...Yes.”
At Fernandez’s words, Kirhas’s face flushed briefly. A warm tickle settled in her chest.
Fernandez lightly patted her shoulder and pushed open the sanctuary entrance that Meladia had stepped aside from.
-Thud.
-Clang!
As the door closed behind him, sharp sword clashes echoed from beyond.
-A useful tool.
‘Never call her that again. Feizashi.’
-Why? Fancy yourself a king now?
Ignoring Feizashi’s snark, Fernandez entered the sanctuary. It was serene and beautiful, utterly detached from the outside turmoil.
Warm sunlight poured down on verdant meadows. Thick mana, carrying a fresh scent, swirled gently around the sun.
Attendant maidens in ritual garb knelt in prayer toward the sanctuary’s center. And at its heart, facing the sun directly, an elf man was forming hand seals.
‘Serpent King...?’
A being of that caliber should be free from physical form... yet his presence and shape felt subtly distorted.
Fernandez’s mana vision flared, illuminating his body. As his blurred senses accustomed to the overwhelming spirit and presence, the truth emerged.
-Hah, no way?
‘Afraid so.’
-Step.
Fernandez approached the Serpent King, who was focused on his ritual. Instinctual revulsion writhed in his blood.
“...You’ve come at an inopportune time. I am quite busy.”
“I have fulfilled your request. Is my reward prepared?”
“Ah, the favor to find someone? Of course.”
Gaimern regarded Fernandez with a face heavy with exhaustion. Even as their eyes met, his eyelids and lips twitched sporadically.
A strange, eerie distortion played across his features.
-Thump. Thump. Thump.
Fernandez bit his lip at the sight. Disgust and rage heated his heart. Gaimern responded with a twisted smile.
“The war raging in your human lands far to the west. She is caught in its midst. Distant for her now, perhaps, but her life is like a candle in the wind. Thus, I surmised. What her existence might signify.”
The western war. The century-long conflict between the Levineiter Empire and the Kirazat Sultanate. At this time, it would still be called the ‘Fifty Years’ War.’
Fernandez awaited Gaimern’s next words.
“You are a priest of Beitasser. For one like you to seek a ‘being born with spirit from the start,’ the metaphor is rather overt.”
Greed flowed from Gaimern’s eyes. Godslayer. Fernandez recalled the moniker of the Elfin Serpent Kings from his past life.
When civilized society teetered on the brink of collapse, the Elfin Serpent Kings hunted the minor gods of the pantheons in their domain.
Hence the name Godslayer. They sought divine spirits to evacuate their race from the endangered material world.
Whether their efforts succeeded or failed was unknown. The elves had vanished from the world at some point.
But one thing was clear: Gaimern possessed both the ability and desire to collect divinity. They were the closest to gods in this era’s material world.
“A being born bearing Beitasser’s divinity. Or at least its equivalent. Heh. Thus, I shall reward you. You did not request information from me—you provided it. Now, what is your desire?”
Fernandez slowly lowered his stance, hand on his sword hilt. He forced out words that stuck in his throat.
“Then I ask: Are you plotting the dragon’s revival to claim its divinity?”
“Heh. You figured it out? Indeed, no ordinary human. Yes, I tolerated Franzrit’s petty scheme.”
Madness curled at Gaimern’s lips.
“Indeed. You performed your role splendidly. You revived the dragon for me and thwarted Franzrit’s interlopers.”
-So that’s it.
‘Not yet. One more piece needed.’
Fernandez shook his head at Feizashi’s words. If the dragon had fallen under their control as Franzrit planned, it would have been a massive threat to Gaimern.
Fernandez had foiled Franzrit’s plan. That was the divergence from his past life. Yet it still wasn’t enough. His instincts screamed it.
There was something in King Gaimern’s aura, that distortion. Fernandez said with effort,
“Great King Gaimern. Whose body is that?”
“...Heh. Hehehe. Excellent. Truly delightful. Conversing with you has been grand amusement. Are you truly human? Your intellect rivals mine. Splendid.”
Threatening light gleamed in Gaimern’s eyes. He had no intention of letting Fernandez leave alive. Fernandez’s value ended here.
On the chessboard Gaimern envisioned, the piece called Fernandez held no further worth.
“My one and only precious son. It belongs to Ainad. Human Inquisitor.”
With that, Gaimern completed his hand seals. Fernandez’s eyes instinctively read and analyzed them. A mage’s reflex in grasping spell manifestation.
-Shing.
Yet Fernandez’s reason chose to grip and draw his greatsword.
-...Yes. Fernandez.
‘Yes. Feizashi.’
That eerie distortion. Likely because it hadn’t fully seized the flesh. Faceless or similar parasitic kin often showed such signs.
Instinct cooled to ice, reason blazed hot. Fernandez analyzed Gaimern’s full power, compared it to his own, calculated his moves. Yet simultaneously, he burned with fury toward Gaimern.
My son. My poor child. Fernandez closed his eyes.
Your screams still echo in my ears. You and I parted for sixty years.
I remember your birth. Even the moment you grew cold in my arms.
-Regret alone remained.
Fernandez opened his eyes. In a voice like a wounded beast, he said,
“Pray, King Gaimern.”
“What?”
“To any god, any words. Earnestly.”
On the chessboard Fernandez envisioned, the piece called Gaimern held no further worth either.