Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Blood Gate's Toll
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Rumble, rumble!
An irregular shaking sensation was transmitted through his body.
“Ugh...”
His back was stiff and aching—a far from pleasant feeling.
As he slowly opened his eyes, a vast blue sky filled his vision, his head swaying wildly.
In his limp, drifting gaze, the leaves of passing trees flickered by in spots.
This was no situation where anyone could claim the ride was even remotely comfortable.
‘...Dizzy.’
Ian muttered plainly, but in truth, his current physical state went far beyond a simple “dizzy.”
The mana road he had barely managed to form by controlling the violent nature of the Solar Meridian Blockage with the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art—it was now a tangled mess.
A body born with the Solar Meridian Blockage, reinforced by one of Agena's premier techniques, the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art.
On top of that, the Mana Core swollen to bursting after consuming the Hundred Ghosts Pill.
Opening the Blood Gates came at a steep price, enough to upend such a sturdy frame.
‘Surviving this is impressive in itself.’
His condition was horrific, yet Ian considered it fortunate that this was the extent of it.
The Blood Gates were among the most perilous ultimate techniques within the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art.
Drawing from the chakra gates of the Dharama Kingdom in the Western Continent, the Blood Gates were one of its greatest ultimate moves, manifested through martial prowess.
In truth, calling it an “ultimate move” felt almost embarrassing—the effect was exceedingly simple.
The gates of chakra that controlled human limits. Simply put, arbitrarily opening a point in the mana road to explosively unleash a human's latent power.
That was it.
In exchange, for a time several times longer than the activation, one had to endure a near-death state.
Exactly like now, helpless and carted away.
Yet despite these severe side effects, the effect was reliable, allowing Lucas in his previous life to overcome crises time and again.
Thus, the Blood Gates earned its place as the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art's primary ultimate technique.
Even accounting for all its drawbacks, it could overwhelmingly reverse any situation.
Indeed, in this incident, opening three gates had allowed him to subdue Attila, the Black Rock King, whom even Sophia struggled against one-on-one.
Of course, he was paying the corresponding price.
...Throb!
Just twitching a single finger sent his entire body's muscles and mana road screaming in agony.
‘Grr, even so. I only opened three gates, and the backlash is this bad...’
There were a total of seven Blood Gates.
If those who remembered Lucas from his previous life saw Ian's state now, they would scoff in disbelief.
The idea that opening a mere three gates could twist the mana road was unimaginable for previous-life Lucas.
‘...Opening five or more would almost certainly kill me.’
Unlike his previous life, where his body had approached human limits, this life's physique was still ordinary.
Abusing it before tempering it through relentless training to previous-life levels would likely mean not dying a natural death.
Spending several times the activation duration in a vegetative state.
On the Iron-Blooded Lands teeming with martial artists scrambling to rise, it was as good as inviting others to trample him.
‘I need to hold back until my body is complete.’
He hadn't planned to use the Blood Gates on this mission, but apparently, he'd gotten too worked up.
Thanks to Black Rock King Attila's words striking a nerve.
‘My discipline is still lacking.’
Even as his twisted mana road wracked his body with pain like it was shattering, Ian coldly reflected on his actions.
It was only natural.
One who didn't constantly reflect and contemplate their judgments could never advance.
‘If I'd fought alongside Sophia, it would've taken longer, but we could've subdued him easily. No more needless pride.’
Ian continued his thoughts.
As he gazed at the blue sky through his shaking vision, lost in contemplation, a face suddenly popped up, blocking his view.
Suddenly!
“Huh? Boss, you're awake? You with us?”
Even in his wrecked state, that horrifying sight made his hand move before his head could react.
Poke!
“Gwaaaah! Y-you crazy bastard! I was worried and talked to you, and you poke my eye out of nowhere? What the hell!”
Whoa, that startled me.
“Ah, sorry. Reflex. When I sense a threat, instinct kicks in before reason.”
Ian apologized, but to Ralph, whose eyeball had just been jabbed, it rang utterly hollow.
“W-what? After I nursed you for three days straight! You wake up and poke my eye! Sorry? Sor-ry? What the...!”
“Move, man!”
Whack!
The Latent Dragon Squad members, drawn by the commotion, shoved aside Ralph—who was clutching his reddened, tearing eye—and checked on Ian.
“Boss, you okay? You lucid?”
“Boss, how's your body feeling?”
At the stark difference in treatment, Ralph wiped his tears and ground his teeth.
“...Damn it. Seriously, I'm outta here. This squad's toxic.”
Ralph, hurt to his core, and the squad ignoring him entirely.
At that familiar scene, it finally sank in.
He, Ian himself, had emerged victorious from a life-or-death battle.
“Eh... hurts like hell, but not dying. Anyway, what happened to Sophia and the Tiger Cloud Unit?”
“Well...”
As Sylvia started to answer Ian's question,
“Sylvia, it's fine. I'll explain the rest.”
Sophia arrived, having heard that Ian had woken on the makeshift cot.
...Thud!
The moment Attila's head hit the floor.
The battlefield, lulled into a standoff after Ian's words subdued Attila, fell into a silence so deep even a droplet's fall could be heard.
But it didn't last.
“Gr, grrr rumble! The king!!”
“N-no!! Attila, our Black Rock King!! Noooo!!”
Trolls began to belatedly accept the grim reality, their screams erupting.
The resurrection of the Black Rock King, Attila, had been a fateful beacon for the Black Rock Tribe, brimming with ambition to reclaim dominance in the birch forest.
They had endured years of silent hardship in dank caves, fixated solely on his eventual return to lead the great calamity.
To them, Attila's death brought an indescribable sense of loss.
“...Grr rumble, kill.”
Swoosh!
The void in their hearts filled with thick killing intent toward their enemy.
“Kill the humans!”
“Grr rumble, not a single one lives!”
Their bloodshot eyes held nothing but rage.
“Latent Dragon Squad! Tiger Cloud Unit! All hands, protect Second Young Lord Ian with your lives!”
Swish swish swish!
Sophia's command echoed through the cave as the clan's forces blocked in front of the unconscious Ian.
Hummm!
“G-good, he's still breathing! I'll... I'll do something!”
Flash!
Confirming Ian's survival, Helena surged with holy energy.
With their anxiety eased by her words, the clan's warriors raised their weapons to guard the Second Young Lord.
“Our boss is pretty damn cool!”
“Hate to admit it, hurts my pride... but he's the real deal as a leader. Can't let him die in a cave like this.”
Ralph with his halberd and Ryu An with his greatsword steeled their resolve.
With Dane and Sylvia unable to exert much against trolls, these two's roles were crucial.
Not just the Latent Dragon Squad—the Tiger Cloud Unit felt the same.
Though all strike teams vied to climb over each other, this Second Young Lord had saved their captain Sophia in a desperate crisis.
They couldn't let their lifesaver die so pointlessly.
Thus, the two forces resumed their standoff.
In this powder-keg tension where a spark could unleash bloodshed,
One troll shattered the taut air.
...Clang!
A friction sound unfit for battle rang out.
All eyes turned naturally.
A blade spinning on the ground after being tossed.
One troll had discarded his weapon before the fight.
“...Grr rumble, Saruba?”
“A royal guard captain dares this?!”
The vice-captain of the king's direct elite guard had dropped—no, thrown—his weapon before the regicides.
As bewilderment spread among the trolls at this absurd act, the troll called Saruba stepped forward.
Not content with one step.
“Grr rumble. How about we call it quits here?”
He uttered words neither side had anticipated.
The clan's members couldn't hide their shock either.
“...Did I hear wrong?”
“I heard it clear too. He said... let's stop...”
“So what's happening now?”
If the humans were confused, for the trolls, it ignited fury beyond bewilderment.
“Kraaa! Saruba, you bastard! Betraying the tribe?!”
“Saying 'stop' with the king's killers right there! You're mad!”
“A mere whelp not even decades old dares this insolence?!”
Ancient trolls near Attila's age jumped in rage, berating Saruba—but to him, their cries were empty ramblings of drunken nostalgia.
“Grr rumble! It's you lot obsessed with 'king, king' who are mad—not me! You know nothing else!”
“W-what?!”
Saruba gazed sorrowfully at Attila's—no, Munjuk's—severed corpse.
“Lord Munjuk was a true loyalist, yielding even the miraculous elixir saved from humans not for his own advancement, but for the king! A warrior who lived solely for him! Yet that 'king' stole this honorable warrior's body and sullied his pride!”
“...!!”
“That's the true face of the king you all hang your necks for, screaming of the past!!”
At Saruba's shout, the young trolls wavered rapidly.
They too recalled what they'd overlooked in the chaos.
Munjuk, the warrior bravely fighting invaders and rival monsters for the tribe.
His tearful, wretched end.
“As you say, I'm just a whelp. To me, the 'king' is but a tale from old stories. Yet I served him for one simple reason.”
Swoosh!
His sorrowful gaze turned to the severed head.
“Because Lord Munjuk served the king.”
Munjuk, who led warriors against humans and calamity beasts to preserve the tribe's lineage.
To young trolls raised watching that warrior's back, Munjuk's pitiful death fueled outrage beyond disappointment in Black Rock King Attila.
“If that's the true king you speak of—such an ugly sight... I say we stop wasting tribe lives. Lord Munjuk would wish it too.”
Did they sense something in Saruba's words?
The young trolls' blind rage rapidly faded.
...Clang!
Metal rang again. Once started, the sounds spread.
Clang! Crash!
Soon, an unstoppable wave filled the cave.
“Wh-what! Have they all gone mad?!”
A few crusty elders raged, but reversing the tide was impossible.
Saruba, silently watching, turned to the clan's strike team.
“Grr rumble! As you see, we no longer have reason to fight. You have grudges too, no doubt, but how about ending it here?”
“Ha! Who decides when it ends, you—mmph!”
“Please, just stay quiet. Please.”
Helena swiftly silenced Ralph, who scoffed at Saruba's proposal—no one spared him a glance.
As eyes converged as if by agreement, Sophia made her decision.