Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: The Troll King's Demise
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A sharp slashing sound reverberated through the air, and spurting blood painted the empty space in crimson threads.
“Keurgh...!!”
Red blood erupted from Attila's mouth, pierced by the blade Ian had swung.
Among all monsters of the Great Cataclysm, no race could rival trolls when it came to recovery power.
And Attila stood at the pinnacle of those trolls.
Normally, a wound from a mere toy-like metal skewer would vanish in the blink of an eye.
But it wasn't healing.
That's right.
The problem was the spot this young human had stabbed.
A massive diagonal scar across his chest.
It was a fatal wound inflicted by Iron Mask's greatsword, damaging not just his flesh but his very soul.
Even after sacrificing countless humans and consuming the mysterious elixir Munjuk had procured, the wound had never fully healed.
For Attila, it was as good as a curse—and that's exactly where he'd been stabbed.
“Grr...!”
Attila staggered back, trying to put distance between himself and Ian, but Ian wasn't the type to just watch idly.
Squelch!
Ian twisted the handle of Sosia, which had pierced deep enough to emerge from Attila's back, widening the troll's wound even further.
“Keugh...”
Drip, drip!
Hot liquid fell one by one onto Ian's head from above.
Even more blood gushed from Attila's mouth as his soul took the blow.
Attila clawed desperately at Sosia with trembling hands, trying to pull it free, but his body, already robbed of strength by the mortal wound, refused to obey.
“Infuriating... Finally, a chance to avenge myself against that loathsome Iron Mask... and you humans...”
Attila was filled with resentment.
If only he hadn't been wounded by Iron Mask.
If only Munjuk's aid had fully healed this scar.
No, he didn't even need to be in perfect condition.
Just a little more time to recover...
Then he wouldn't have suffered this humiliation at the hands of these brats.
As if reading Attila's thoughts...
“That's not the bearing of a king.”
Slash!
Ian coldly swung Sosia in response to Attila's desperate thrashing, cleaving the troll's torso open.
“I like the struggling. If you can't walk, crawl forward. Overcoming the trials before you by any means necessary, pushing through to your goal—that's one of a king's virtues. That's the weight a king must bear.”
Ian could empathize, having thrashed desperately until the very end in his past life to overcome adversity.
He knew that frustration all too well.
'I failed because I couldn't do it in my final moments.'
But.
“At the very least, don't blame the circumstances. Whatever the reason, once a king makes a choice, he bears the consequences himself.”
Whether Attila heard those final words or not...
Ian sheathed his sword, gazing at the troll whose body had gone completely still, as if life had already fled it.
The explanation was long, but the time from rescuing Ryu An to felling Attila had been but an instant.
“Wh-what? It's already over?”
Ralph shuffled over, clutching his broken ribs, his voice hollow with disbelief.
His weary tone alone conveyed how absurd he found the situation.
“Yeah, it's all over. Everyone, good work.”
“No way... We were barely hanging on after all that hell, and you just flip it over like it's nothing? Is this for real?”
He was beyond incredulous—utterly deflated.
'Just how much of a monster is this guy?'
He'd known from the start that Ian was more than the rumors suggested, but this was on another level.
Sure, the Latent Dragon Squad had grown quickly in the Trial Gate, but Ian's growth was in a league of its own.
To them, Ian's rate of improvement bordered on the miraculous.
To Ian, who had once walked the path of the supreme, even this pace felt frustratingly slow.
After all, at this very moment, his enemies were steadily expanding their influence across the continent.
Of course, the Latent Dragon Squad could never grasp that reality.
“Helena, how are the squad members' injuries?”
Unaware or perhaps mindful of their thoughts, Ian checked on the squad through Helena.
“Fortunately, no major injuries, Captain. Ralph has a couple of broken ribs... but that's minor.”
“Yeah, looks that way.”
Sensing something off in their exchange, Ralph cut in.
“...Hey, you two? What do you mean? Broken ribs—that's serious! Why's it minor?”
The squad members all tilted their heads in unison at Ralph's bewildered—or perhaps sulky—tone.
“Well... it's Ralph, isn't it?”
“Yeah, Ralph.”
“Eh... If it's Ralph who's hurt, it's no big deal. Lucky for us.”
“...This damn squad is gonna make it big someday, mark my words.”
Thud, thud!
As Ralph bantered with the squad, Ian slowly approached Attila's corpse.
Proof was needed to claim their achievement.
'The Tiger Cloud Unit won't stoop to stealing credit... but better to be certain.'
Slice!
Ian's sword moved smoothly along its path.
Roll!
Attila's severed head tumbled cleanly across the floor.
The moment Ian reached to pick it up...
Whoosh!
Attila's bloated muscles rapidly shriveled, and pale, misty souls began streaming from the stump of his neck.
“Wh-what is that?”
“Those are...”
From behind the startled Ralph and Ryu An...
Dane calmly observed the drifting mist and spoke.
“Souls. Those sacrificed to the trolls.”
“Souls?”
“Yes.”
Swipe!
Dane wiped the sweat trickling down his cheek and continued.
“Troll voodoo is renowned for its deep knowledge of nature and spirits. So it's no surprise they have forbidden arts to bind souls that should ascend.”
With the souls departing, Attila's muscles deflated—meaning he could no longer hold the victims' spirits with his voodoo.
Ian glanced at the souls leaving Attila's body, then at the now-withered corpse, murmuring inwardly.
'Don't feel wronged. You trampled others' lives for your own recovery.'
If you seek to harm others, you must steel yourself to fall by another's hand.
That, too, was part of a king's bearing.
“May you all return peacefully to the Lord's embrace... Huh?”
Helena gazed pityingly at the souls tormented by the troll.
As she prayed a blessing for them, a sudden unease made her voice a question.
“What's wrong? The souls are freed, aren't they?”
“Y-yeah... They're definitely freed, but...”
Helena tilted her head repeatedly, puzzled.
“Souls leaving the body should head to the heavens. That's where their earthly sins and merits are judged.”
“And?”
When Sylvia asked, not understanding, Sophia pointed upward with her finger.
“The heavens are above. So the souls should rise upward.”
“The cave ceiling's blocking them, probably.”
Helena shot Ralph a glare at his casual remark.
“You think souls have physical form? Blocked by a cave? They should pass right through.”
Swipe!
Helena pointed at the drifting souls.
“But look. They're not heading outside—they're moving sideways along the passage. This... is weird.”
“...Huh?”
Everyone's gazes followed her hand to the souls' path.
Indeed.
As she said, the souls pouring from Attila weren't rising but flying sideways in a line.
As if they had somewhere else to go after leaving his body.
It was as though the souls were screaming they hadn't been fully saved.
“...Let's follow them.”
Ian slung Attila's head and severed neck over his shoulder and took the lead, with the Latent Dragon Squad hurrying after him.
To them, too, the situation felt off.
Something was wrong.
Boom!
The battlefield, locked in a brief lull after Grace's group escaped the prison, reignited fiercely after a short pause.
“Grrr, human wench!! Get out of my way!!”
Munjuk's roar carried his desperation to protect his king, Attila.
“You back off!!”
Sophia's shout burned with urgency, fearing she'd lose the king's head and her beloved sister Sylvia might be endangered.
With both powerhouses' goals sharpening, the battlefield grew even more brutal.
“Earth Shatter!!”
Boom!
Munjuk's spear blade slammed the cave floor, cracking it and threatening Sophia.
“Crimson Lotus Bloom!!!!”
Red aura bloomed from Sophia's chakram like scattering petals, adorning the air.
Boom!
The clash of supreme arts sent shockwaves scattering everywhere, forcing nearby fighters to retreat.
“Grrr!!”
“Danger—fall back!!”
In the chaos, as Black Rock Tribe trolls and Tiger Cloud Unit members scrambled away...
“Grrr...”
“Huff...”
As the dust settled, the two steadied their breathing, recovering from the clash.
Even as they regulated their energy, their glares never wavered, each seeking to take the other's life.
How long did the standoff last?
The anomaly began shortly after, as Munjuk and Sophia continued glaring.
-Aaaaaah!
Pale souls suddenly appeared on the battlefield.
“Wh-what the hell?”
“Grrr, why are those here?!”
“Grr!! I smell the king over there! Those are the souls from the king's body!”
As Tiger Cloud Unit and trolls alike puzzled over the souls' origin...
The souls slowly encircled Munjuk.
“...Grrr?!”
“...What the hell is going on?”
Munjuk and Sophia alike couldn't comprehend the scene.
Then Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad arrived on the battlefield.
Carrying the severed head of a massive troll.
“...Second Young Lord?”
Sophia's expression hardened at the sight.
Even from the head alone, it was obvious.
The body supporting that massive head couldn't have been small.
Anyone could see it was the Troll King's head.
“Ian, Second Young Lord—you...?!”
As Sophia started to speak...
“Grrrrk!!! Kraaaah!!”
Munjuk, enveloped by the pale souls, began screaming in agony.
Clang!
The pain was so intense he dropped his weapon, forgetting a warrior's pride.
“M-my king... Wh-what... why, are you... forsaking me...!”
Bulge, bulge!
Veins bulged grotesquely beneath Munjuk's iron-like muscles and skin, his eyes instantly bloodshot.
No one would call this a normal state.
“Squad Leader Sophia, get back!”
Tat-tat-tat!
Ian wasn't fool enough to wait idly for the enemy's anomaly to end.
Kicking off the cave wall, he charged and brutally slammed Twin-Headed Blood Serpent into the nape of the crouching, writhing Munjuk.
Clang!
Yet despite blade meeting flesh, a rebound like metal on metal surged back.
“...Tch!”
Ian swiftly withdrew his twin blades.
Sophia wasn't a fool either; Ian's actions gave her the gist of the situation.
What Ian had done to cause this upheaval.
“I gave... everything for you...!!”
Munjuk, in agony, couldn't even grasp his spear, clutching his head and muttering to himself.
Drip!
Bloody tears streamed from Munjuk's bloodshot eyes.
“A-Attiiiila!!!”
A scream filled with resentment and grief shook the cave.
“Kehk, kuh...!!”
Drip!
And with that prolonged cry, Munjuk's every movement ceased.
Moments later.
Shhh!
Munjuk rose casually from his spot, slowly surveying his own body.
With the gaze of one beholding a wondrous statue.