Chapter 285

“Welcome, everyone. I assume you’ve been briefed on the situation?”

“Yes, I brought all the extra blood just like you said!”

The soldiers, hearing Lorhon’s question, answered loudly: Behind the portal they’d exited through, a blizzard was raging.

It was the Second Legion of the Alliance, attacking the northern branches of Nebula Clasier. A smirking Lorhon gestured for them to enter.

“Yeah. It’s cold, come on in and warm up. Kratyr, have you gathered from the south?”

“Yes. Master. We’re almost there.”

Kratyr nodded, the three portals before him all leading to the sweltering jungle.

This time, the Union procession in charge of the Southern Department was coming out with its tail between its legs. The commander in charge of the Confederate corps fired a salute.

“I’ve returned to work as ordered.”

“Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

Kratyr bowed in silence. His face was visibly haggard, having been drained of mana for so long.

Lorhon and Kratyr, the continent’s only two spatial mages, were tirelessly twisting and tearing space, rallying forces scattered across the continent. When they said open, they meant this.

“It’s still the same over there–hmm?”

Nabirozé arched an eyebrow as he took in the sights of his homeland for the first time in a long time. From the back of the procession, a familiar man walked out.

“Jarodin?”

“It’s been a while.”

The man raised his hand in greeting. Sunken cheeks, a skinny body that deserved the nickname Were Worm. He was Jarodin, an earth mage of the highest order and her arch nemesis. He strode over and stopped in front of Nabiroze.

“You look fine, and that stupid knife is still there.”

“—Where’d you leave Sunya?”

Nabiroze narrowed his eyes. His wife, who had always been with him, was nowhere to be seen. She may have been resurrected, but I understand she still needs help.

“I have requested protection from the Full Moon Tower. On the condition that I return to the Tower Mage when I’m done.”

“You said you didn’t want to work with those quacks again, so you’ve made a bold move. Are you sure you won’t regret it this time?”

“I just made the more rational choice. If I lose here, it’s all over, so I figured I might as well fight to save the world for my wife to live in.”

Jarodin said. Nabiroze smirked instead of answering. His face was as gaunt as it had been when he and Jarodin had fought in the great jungle.

“You’ve learned to spit out plausible deniability.”

“I’m coming of age too late, so I’m going to see Balzac.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t care, and then I heard you were dead, and it didn’t feel good. Don’t die.”

Jarodin turned abruptly away. Suddenly, his relationship with the fallen Balzac flashed through his mind. His rivalry with the slain Balzac seemed to hit him harder than he expected.

In retrospect, she was involved in a similar relationship. Although this one was already settled.

Lost in thought for a moment, Nabiroze glanced back at Jarodin, a huge shadow looming over her head.

“This is unexpected. I thought you were surely one of those who profess to be married to the sword, and yet you harbor such an impractical lover.”

“Keep talking crap, and I’ll skin you and wear you as a fur coat.”

Nabiroze growled and turned his head. Sure enough, Jaifa stood behind him. The Unwaldo in his shaky hands was still drenched in the giant’s blood.

His face, before the final showdown, was calm, unlike the venomous look one would expect. Nabiroze asked.

“You’re relaxed. You’ve forgotten your hatred.”

“I just chose not to be angry at the obvious. I’m better at killing bugs that way. You don’t get angry when you kill a cockroach or a mosquito.”

Zaifa replied dryly. It was a telling sign of her attitude toward Nebula Clazier. It seemed a bit close, but it was understandable. Nabiroze smiled bitterly.

“—Okay.”

“I did well earlier. I’ve gotten better, and now I’m not really sure if I can win or lose.”

Zaifa cackled. He was referring to what he had seen during the battle with the giant Basagia. Indeed, Nabiroze’s swordsmanship had grown by leaps and bounds since the Second Sword Test.

“You’re right, you’d better enjoy it until this battle is over.”

“Third time’s a charm–I won’t turn down the next one, as I did today. But you’d better hurry.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got an appointment, and if I mess up, I’m going to lose it.”

A distraught Jaifa pointed a finger at the center of the battlefield. Nabiroze shifted his gaze. Schlieffen sat meditating on a rocky outcropping.

“——”

It was to calm his nerves before Iril’s rescue. Beside him, the Pale Lord, Gracia’s saber, lay sleeping. Nabiroze’s eyes narrowed.

“A pre-commitment means—.”

“Yeah. That’s the kid.”

Jaifa smirked. Schlieffen was sitting still, but she wasn’t sitting still. Even at this distance, she could feel his life force, eerily powerful.

A northerly wind seemed to be swirling around Schlieffen’s body. Zaifa shook her head as if fed up.

“I’ve been watching him for the past few months and he’s a monster. I swear, we won’t see another talent like that in the next thousand years.”

“How does that compare to Ronan?”

“Oh–there was that kid, too. It’s hard to tell.”

Zaifa snapped her fingers and began to ponder. Sighing, Nabiroze looked up at the sky. He was worried that his anger would swallow him up, but he was also proud.

“—when did he get that big?”

The molten sun was setting over the wasteland. It was an unseasonably cool evening. The voices of those preparing for the final battle could be heard all around.

“Be careful not to spill a drop!”

“I don’t have time to make more now that the dawn is back!”

The remaining soldiers were busily transferring the dilution made from Ronan’s blood. This would be the final battle, and there would be no spares. The carriages that would be used in the assault on the General Headquarters were being converted into chariots, with armor of black iron or mithril being added.

The sound of iron hitting iron was coming from all directions. Doron, the blacksmith, who had been hammering away, stretched out his hand without turning his head.

“Didikan. Get me a griddle over there.”

“There it is. I see my life’s inspiration doing this.”

“You work hard too. This could be our last hammer.”

“Hmph, don’t be an asshole. You can’t die until you’ve surpassed your inspiration.”

Didikan chuckled and held out the griddle. It was not, as usual, a pleasant laugh. Doron took the plate, trying to ignore the fear in it.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out this time—oh, I haven’t seen those guys in a while.”

“Hmm?”

“Why, Ronan’s friends, they’ve all grown up.”

The corners of Didikan’s mouth twitched upward, his gaze fixed on Marja and Asel, who were just reuniting. Marja waved her arms as she stepped through the portal.

“Asel!”

“Ma, Marja?!”

Asel gulped, startled. It was unmistakably Marja, her lioness-like blond hair fluttering. I remembered you said you were supplying the Northern Front.

It was the first time he’d seen her since he’d begun to hunt down Nebula Clazier in earnest. She closed the gap in an instant and pulled Asel into a bear hug.

“Oof. Sue, you’re breathing—.”

Unable to breathe, Asel flailed her limbs. Her hair was matted with white flakes of snow from the north. Marja laughed, tugging at Asel’s cheeks with both forefingers.

“I heard about your performance, and it’s great! I know you’re not in a position to celebrate right now, but it’s still great!”

“Ah, it hurts…!”

“You’re in on this one, right?”

He had somehow heard of his exploits at the Battle of Basagia again. Asel, who had been laughing and whining, nodded.

“Ugh.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you, I won’t let anyone interfere with your magic!”

Marja said, rubbing her nose against Asel’s. For a moment, Asel’s face stiffened. Despite her smiling mouth, her eyes were filled with fear and anxiety.

“It’s really going to be fine, we’re here, what could possibly go wrong?”

“Marja—.”

It would be strange if he wasn’t afraid of the giants, knowing their danger. Asel had been trembling with fear, too.

But strangely, the sight of Marja’s face calmed her trembling. Asel, clasping her hands in his, chuckled softly.

“Thank you. I’ll protect you too.”

“What the—.”

Asel said. His voice was uncharacteristically unwavering. Marja, stunned, turned her head.

“What. Suddenly.”

His ears, peeking out through his hair, were stained red. Realizing that he had said something quite embarrassing, Asel quickly let go. Suddenly, a booming laugh rang out from somewhere.

“Wahaha, that’s nice to see, love always grows out of desperation!”

“Braum?”

Asel and Marja turned their heads at the same time. A mustachioed bald man stood, grunting. Armed with plate armor and a great shield, Braum was now quite the knight.

“What, are you in the fight too?”

“Too bad we’re in the same alliance. Fighting to save the world from destruction, what more honor could a knight ask for?”

Braum said, thumping his chest. Just then, a girl with ebony hair swooped down from the air. It was Erzebeth, the youngest child of House Acalusia. The three men’s eyes widened.

“Erzebet?”

“It’s been a while, everyone. I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”

She sent a gracious greeting. An accomplished mage, she, like Marjana Braum, had been dispatched to the Tower of Dawn to work with the mages there to aid the Alliance. Asel asked a question.

“Hey, what about the Dawn Tower, will it be okay without you?”

“Of course not, I’ll be back as soon as the offense starts, and I’ve got my scrolls ready.”

“Why, why would you do such a thing—?”

“Oh really. Why do you keep asking me that?!”

“Hee hee!”

Suddenly, Erzebeth became nervous. The sight of the catlike grinding of her jaws startled Asel. “You’re a cat,” Erzebet said.

“I was just worried about you all, so I came to take a look! Isn’t that just something friends do, or do you not consider me a friend or something?”

“Oh, no—! It’s a friend, yes!”

“Hmmm. I’ll do that.”

Erzebet smiled with satisfaction. I’d never heard the word friend come out of her mouth before. I wonder if she has some sort of disease that makes her more honest toward the end,” she said, glancing around.

“The thief—no, I don’t think Ronan has returned yet—what about sister Adeshan?”

“Uh, I’m in a meeting with Mr. Navarordze over there, it’s getting a little long.”

Asel pointed a finger at the barracks in the corner of the battlefield. Inside the makeshift tent, a meeting of key commanders was underway.

The Alliance was just about ready to launch its final offensive. The portals to the rest of the continent were closed.

Only Kratyr stood in the middle of the battlefield, eyes closed, chanting some kind of incantation. A cold sweat ran down his face. Asel was about to say something more.

“Hmph!”

Kratyr opened his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he spread his arms wide and clapped. A cheerful sound echoed across the battlefield. Erzebet turned her head in surprise as she felt a huge movement of mana.

“Hey, that’s—?!”

Space was warping. Suddenly, the landscape in front of me was tearing up and down, revealing a forest and a lake. It wasn’t hard to deduce what was happening. Asel sucked in a breath.

“Seo, you didn’t mean to open—!”

The unmistakable view of the paradisiacal forest was unmistakable. From above, the huge lake reflected a pure white sky covered in clouds.