Chapter 235: The Tin Knight and The Witch of Heaven's Change (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 235: The Tin Knight and The Witch of Heaven's Change (5)
“You're going to see this through to the end? You...”
Dorothea hesitated.
She, too, knew it logically.
Whether it was Gale and the White Knight being defeated, or the forces from the Tower of Protection suffering irreversible damage, neither could be allowed to happen if they were aiming for a complete victory. She also knew that if they were to dispatch reinforcements and conquer the tower simultaneously, splitting their forces was the best option.
But that would place an immense burden on those left behind.
The void left by the departure of the Tin Knight, arguably their strongest asset, and Dorothea, who supplied him with mana, would be truly enormous.
“It's okay, Witch. We can do it.”
As if seeing right through Dorothea’s hesitation, Adelaide declared with certainty.
Not ‘we’ll try,’ not ‘we’ll do our best,’ but ‘we can do it.’
Dorothea looked as if a thousand retorts were rising in her throat, but whether she liked it or not, the witch was wise.
Instead of wasting time on a pointless argument, she said curtly,
“Don't you die. I won't be collecting your soul.”
To that blunt litotes, Adelaide simply responded with a bashful smile.
Cap’n Bill, who had been sneering that he was glad the pathetic melodrama was short, grumbled after taking a body blow from Trot, while Sophia silently stood with Adelaide.
Just as the newly divided party was about to part ways.
[The ‘Tin Knight’ says that since you’ve been so patient, you should just go all out for once!]
Leaving only those words, the Tin Knight grabbed Dorothea, smashed through the tower wall, and leaped out through the opening.
It was a truly carefree departure, disappearing without even waiting for a reply.
Adelaide stared for a moment at the spot where he had vanished, then sprinted toward the next flight of stairs.
*
Those who protect the king of a nation are often individuals who possess both skill and loyalty.
If they possess only one of the two, it is those with loyalty who are chosen to guard the king’s person.
This is because those without loyalty, no matter how skilled, could turn their swords on him at any moment. But those without skill, if they have loyalty, can at least be used as meat shields.
Control, being both a magic tower and a kingdom, was no different in this regard.
Lotbart Rognir, the head of the tower and its king.
Those who blocked the path to the highest floor where he resided were, for better or worse, all individuals far removed from the concept of betrayal.
“Long live Aeolia! Glory to the blood of Rognir!”
Those who heard tales of the glory of the old Aeolia Kingdom from their ancestors and claimed that glory as their own.
“Who do you think you are, tracking your filth in here, you lowlifes!!”
Descendants of Aeolian nobles, who believed they too could reclaim their old power once the royal family was restored to its rightful place.
“Die! Just die! You goddamn bastards!!”
Members of the tower’s upper echelons, struggling to protect the power and authority they had long wielded.
“Stop them, no matter what! Don’t let a single one of them reach the Tower Head—no, my father!!”
And even those who sought to protect Lotbart simply because they were his own flesh and blood.
All that resistance, all that obstruction, all that hostility—Adelaide met it head-on.
She evaded the rain of magic arrows with sheer mobility, blew away the spreading poison mist with the winds from her sword, and cut down anyone who stood in her way, be they spirit, golem, or human.
“...Incredible.”
Watching her, Trot couldn't help but let out a gasp of admiration.
She knew this was no time to be idly spouting commentary during a battle, but Adelaide’s performance was so terrifyingly impressive that she couldn't help but be amazed.
Even Trot, who was at least a silver-grade adventurer, a 3rd rank mage, or a more-than-capable knight, could do nothing more than evade the attacks in this situation.
Cap’n Bill and his three officers—Eel Head, Viking Hat, and Octopus Head—were also fighting remarkably well, but that was only possible because Dorothea and Gale had worked together to twist their contract lines. As long as Trot was nearby, they could be resurrected infinitely, no matter how grievous their injuries, without being reverse-summoned back to the pirate ship.
And yet Adelaide, in her living body, was performing on par with them—no, she was doing more than all of them combined.
No, it was more than that.
‘Somehow, isn't she moving faster than before?’
Combat is an act that consumes an enormous amount of stamina.
This is especially true in an environment where attacks fly from all directions, each one a direct threat to one’s life.
It was only natural to grow tired as time passed, but Adelaide showed no signs of it.
On the contrary, the more she fought, the more adept her responses became and the faster her reactions grew.
While it’s true that real combat in a crisis forces one to grow, this was to a degree that seemed to have crossed a line.
Breaching the 6th floor took more than three times longer than it had before the Tin Knight and Dorothea left, and Sophia had to heal her wounds with holy magic several times.
Breaching the 7th floor took about twice as long, and there were several dangerous moments that would have been fatal had the immortal pirates not blocked the attacks with their bodies.
On the 8th floor, she rampaged as if she had read the attack patterns of the mages, her movements strangely out of sync with their tempo. It took 1.5 times as long.
The 9th floor.
A golem with a body made entirely of metal, standing at least five meters tall, extended its hands in front. Behind a barrier that blocked enemy attacks while letting allied attacks pass through, several 4th rank mages unleashed a barrage of attack magic.
The instant a violet spark flashed from Adelaide’s head, the golem was sliced into five pieces and hurled at the mages.
The mages were crushed to death, along with their barrier.
The survivors still tried to stop the party, but in the end, they were all silenced.
It was a swift breach, almost as fast as when the Tin Knight had been with them.
“……Huuu.”
With only the final floor remaining, Adelaide took a deep breath.
Sophia gently patted Adelaide’s shoulder.
The holy power flowing from Sophia’s body soothed Adelaide’s fatigue and wounds.
“From here on, I think I'll just be in the way.”
With those words, Sophia collapsed to the floor.
Perhaps from the continuous use of her holy power, a burning smell emanated from her entire body, and the dazzling white light of her power, now seemingly depleted, no longer flowed out.
“This is as far as our crew goes, too. Without this cheeky rookie, we'd just get reverse-summoned again if we tried to move on our own. Besides, we need to stop the bastards creeping up from below.”
Cap’n Bill gestured with his chin toward Trot, who lay unconscious after taking a blow to the head during the fight.
Fortunately, the injury didn't seem life-threatening, but even if she had been conscious, she was already at her physical and magical limits. Taking her any further was impossible.
Adelaide gave them a short bow.
“Thank you for helping me this far. I couldn't have made it up here alone.”
“Hah! Don't see you acting all humble, you little monster. We're just acting according to our contract. If you have time for sappy talk, hurry up and finish the job.”
As if genuinely annoyed, Bill waved his hand dismissively as if shooing away a bug, while Sophia simply offered a silent smile.
Adelaide turned her back and began to climb the stairs.
In contrast to all the other times she had climbed the stairs, which had been met with all sorts of traps and attacks, this final flight was utterly silent.
Perhaps it was their own particular aesthetic.
The idea that while one might heavily guard the outside of a castle, one does not cover the king’s own chambers in traps.
At the top of the stairs, a handmaiden dressed in clothes that were both elegantly old-fashioned and practical was waiting.
“His Majesty is waiting.”
Though she tried to maintain a calm expression and demeanor, the handmaiden’s body and voice trembled faintly, as if in fear of Adelaide.
Her hair was silver, and she looked even younger than Adelaide.
So that's his game, Adelaide thought with a strange sense of calm.
A thorough pragmatism that, while feigning concern for a monarch's dignity, did not hesitate to get one's own hands dirty or even use one's own kin when necessary.
Indeed, it was a scene that seemed to perfectly reveal the character of the man known as the gray old man.
The handmaiden glanced furtively at Adelaide and began to recite what she had likely been ordered to say.
“I... I didn't know. It's true that the Rognir bloodline holds high positions in the tower, but you have to be of a certain age, so...”
“Will you open the door?”
Calmly, revealing neither anger nor hatred, Adelaide cut the young handmaiden off.
The handmaiden flinched and shuddered violently, then silently bowed her head and opened the door.
As Adelaide passed by, the handmaiden spoke in a small voice, so quiet that anyone but Adelaide would have missed it.
“...I'm sorry.”
Was it a sincere repentance for the sins committed by her clan?
Or was it a hollow apology, meant only to curry a little favor and sympathy?
If even this was part of the old man's plan, well, that would be impressive in its own way.
Adelaide did not answer, simply passing through the door.
Whether the space had always been this way or had been specially arranged for the current situation, the 10th floor was structured with almost no furniture or decorations relative to its vast size.
But that did not mean it looked desolate or empty.
Rather, by eliminating all that was unnecessary, something at its center stood out all the more clearly.
It was a throne, integrated with a massive crystal pillar.
An immense amount of mana poured ceaselessly from the crystal, and the ornate, majestic throne exuded a weight that seemed to crush those who faced it.
And on that throne, someone was seated.
He was the head of the Tower of Control.
He was the king of this small yet vast nation.
He was the prized disciple of the Witch of the North, and the traitor who had stabbed his master in the back.
He was one of Friedel’s enemies.
The gray old man. Lotbart Rognir stared at Adelaide.
“─Impressive.”