Chapter 302

[Adeshan. Dangerous].

“Ugh!”

Adeshan flinched as he concentrated. It seemed to calm down for a moment, but then it was back. A familiar woman’s voice pierced his mind.

She was tired of asking what was dangerous. She sighed, noticing that Shadow’s mana was distracted. Perhaps he needed a distraction to refocus.

“Haaaa–really.”

Adeshan opened his eyes nervously. He could see the allied armies gathered in formation, the stars all around him, and the glittering sky beyond. The battle between Ronan and the Giant King seemed to be still ongoing.

“Ronan.”

She looked up at the sky and bit her lip, her heart heavy with the realization that she had left this fight too much in Ronan’s hands. Of course, he or Navarordze were the only ones who could stand a chance against the king.

“I wonder if there’s anything I can do to help.

Even Navarordze was still missing. He had organized a star squadron to search for him, but there was still no word on his whereabouts.

It would have been nice to be able to provide support fire, but even that was out of the question. He would probably have to attack with magic, but all of his mana and that of his allies was being funneled to the Savior.

“I can’t help it—.”

No matter how much she thought about it, it was for the best for now. Adeshan was about to turn her attention back to her mission when a muffled laugh rang out behind her.

“Ahhhhh–I can’t use that, Ronan.”

“What.”

Adeshan whirled around sharply. A woman in a pure white dress was walking slowly across the gap between the Allied forces. Her eyes widened at the dazzling beauty of the figure.

“—Iril?”

It was Iril, no doubt. We were told she was unconscious, but she just woke up? Adeshan’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze. With every step she took, people around her were falling to the ground.

“What, what?”

His vital signs were normal, so he didn’t appear to be dead or injured. The people in the direction Iriel had come from were already down.

It was unintelligible. Adeshan’s instinctive sense of foreboding told him to take action. Suddenly, all the strength drained from his body.

“What’s going on now—”

A thud. She swayed and collapsed to one knee. An inexplicable euphoria swirled through her fading consciousness.

“—Eh?”

Something was wrong. One by one, his senses were twisting. The devastation of the battlefield had been replaced by the view of Phileon Academy from the Hill of the Four Seasons. The smell of ash and blood that had assaulted my nostrils had been replaced by the scent of cherry blossoms.

“Senior. What’s wrong?”

An unexpectedly familiar voice rang in his ears. Puzzled, Adeshan turned his head, his brow furrowed. Ronan stood there, his hands in his pockets.

“Ro, Ronan?”

“Did you have a rough time, like, student government sucked?”

Ronan asked in a worried tone, looking down at him with the kind of affection he only showed when they were alone. Adeshan stammered.

“I, I am–because.”

“Don’t push yourself, you’re doing great right now.”

With that, Ronan pulled Adeshan into a light embrace. The cozy, yet hot embrace was unmistakably that of a lover. Her thoughts paused for a moment.

“Ah—.”

Adeshan knew. Everything he was seeing, hearing, and feeling was fake. But the euphoria he felt was clouding his judgment. He heard a woman’s voice not too far away.

“Okay. If you’re tired, take a break, you’ve been running hard.”

“—Mom?”

The tone was familiar. Adeshan turned his head and his face hardened. His mother and two brothers, killed in childhood, were coming up the hill.

“You’ve grown up, Adeshan.”

“My little brother, I think you’re taller than him now.”

The two brothers waved. They and their mother looked unchanged from the last time he’d seen them. Adeshan muttered, mesmerized.

“That’s ridiculous—.”

This was too much. Her vision was tinged with a sickly familiarity, and she realized with a start that she, too, was wearing a school uniform.

“That doesn’t make sense—huh?”

Of course, it didn’t matter now. Adeshan fell sideways and landed on the floor. Her head hung low, her shoulders heaving.

“Ahhhhh—ha.”

****

The wind was harsh. A sea of pure white clouds drifted past my feet. It was beautiful against the night-blue sky overhead.

The view couldn’t have been better. But Ronan didn’t have time to appreciate it now. He spat out a phlegm and asked in an irritated tone.

“Let’s call it a day. You’re bored, aren’t you?”

But this time there was no answer. Before him, the King of Giants flapped his wings. Ronan, flightless, hovered around him like a satellite, his auror on high alert.

‘It’s dirty big. Really.’

Ronan clicked his tongue as he watched the king: ten times the size of a normal giant, it blocked out the view behind him, especially the eight wings, which made it difficult to see the whole thing even when he turned his head.

The white behemoth bore a few of Ronan’s scars, but nothing that could be called decisive. He was as defenseless as he was overwhelming.

Whatever it was, he wanted to bring it to a head. His battered limbs were trembling as if they would break. Clutching the hilt of his sword, Ronan cried out.

“Now go fuck yourself!”

At the same time, the lamancha turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. The pulling force intensified, and Ronan’s body shot forward.

A wide arc of ramancha was drawn, aimed at the giant king’s throat. The blade was about to slice through his throat. A ferocious crash rang out. Ronan frowned as he grasped the whimpering hand.

“Shit—!”

A broad, thick greatsword stood in Ramanchar’s way. The king’s main weapon, a huge sword, looked more like a piece of civil engineering equipment than a weapon.

It was not made of light like the other giants, but of substance, and Ronan could not easily cut it down. Taking a deep breath, he smirked, realizing he’d been aiming for the neck too obviously.

“You’re not a big guy. Are you sure you’ve got your stuff together?”

『——.』

But the king did not respond to Ronan’s taunts. It was easy to see where the cynicism of the giant race came from. There was a tense silence. The king twisted his body wordlessly and swung his greatsword wide.

“Ugh!”

Ronan, reading the trajectory, slashed backward. Whoosh! The greatsword grazed his disheveled bangs.

A streak of light followed the sword’s trajectory, sending it flying over the horizon. BOOM! Soon, the resulting explosion shot up, tearing through the sea of clouds.

“Nimi.”

A belated shockwave swept through the area. Ronan cursed under his breath. It’s a good thing we’re in the middle of nowhere. This thing could have blown up an entire city.

Whoosh! The giant’s flurry of punches came right back at him, but he couldn’t quite parry. Ronan, who had been keeping his distance by parrying and dodging, twisted his lips.

“Oh, shit, how am I going to get this thing.

To be honest, I didn’t see an answer. It didn’t seem like the king was chosen by popular vote. Occasionally they would trade blows, but usually Ronan was the bigger loser.

For now, all he could do was bide his time so as not to set the Allies on fire, and wait for the curse that lingered in his body to dissipate. Suddenly, a familiar girl’s voice echoed in Ronan’s head.

[Not easy].

“What is it, Lynn?”

[It’s hard. How could that thing—].

Ronan’s eyes widened. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. It was Rin, the spirit of the holy sword that dwells in La Mancha. Ronan shook his head, having once again dodged the king’s blow.

“What’s going on all of a sudden?”

[I’m here because I don’t want to see you die, and you’re my friend, no matter what anyone says].

The hilt of her sword tinkled as she spoke. Ronan narrowed his brow. The implications were self-evident.

“—Do you think you can’t win?”

[I can’t be sure, but this is not going to work, and it’s reading you like you’re reading that monster’s battle plan, and if you really want to win, you’re going to have to come up with a new way to do it].

“It’s a new way.”

Ronan grimaced. Surely she was right, the king had memorized Ronan’s attack patterns. He couldn’t land a hit unless he attacked in some sort of erratic fashion.

It would take one good stab to bring it down. Ronan’s brain was heating up fast. After a few seconds of silence, he snapped his fingers.

“Aha.”

[What, you got a good idea?]

“There’s a good chance this will fail, but I think it’s worth a shot. Let’s give it a try.”

[What the hell are you going to do–wait!]

Rin was about to shout something. Ronan suddenly brought his sword down on her left thigh. Blood gushed like a fountain from where the blade dug into his flesh. Ronan gritted his teeth at the searing pain.

“Shit, I cut too deep.”

[Are you crazy? What are you doing?]

Rin asked in a tone of incredulity. Ronan didn’t answer, instead pushing the blade harder into the flesh.

Just enough blood to keep him from dying. We can cut off the leg later.” Rin’s embarrassment flashed across her face as she realized what Ronan meant.

[Wait, you don’t mean—].

“Yeah. That’s enough to hurt him.”

Ronan chuckled. A red glow was rising from the hilt of Ramancha’s sword. It was the nature of weapons to sharpen as they drank blood.

It was a necessary preparation before the final blow. First, the sword would have to rip through the flesh with a solid cut.

Now for the real part, which was actually a gamble. Ronan was just about to whisper the plan to Rin. A low, gravelly voice echoed across the sky.

“Stop.”

“What?”

Ronan stopped dead in his tracks. His marrow seemed to whine. It was unlike any giant’s voice he had ever heard.

Ronan instinctively recognized the voice as that of the king. He caught his breath and looked up. The king was staring at him, his greatsword lowered.

“Did you think you could talk?”

“Tell me, O mortal, while there is still mercy left in me, the whereabouts of the good king.”

“Ancestors–what?”

Ronan shook his head. He couldn’t make out what was being said.

If he’s the first king, does that mean there were kings before him? The king said.

“Your blood smells like a good king.”