Elqueeness [EN]: Chapter 124

KWA-KWAKWANG! KUUUUNG!

An explosion ripped through the air with a deafening roar. The building shuddered violently, and the ceiling fixtures, unable to bear the strain, crashed down. Amidst the wreckage, stone dust rained down, adding another layer to the already thick coating.

“Ugh, ugh…….”

Setnio, paralyzed with terror, scrambled across the floor. A yellowish liquid trickled from between his legs as he lay prone, having wet himself in fear. He was beyond caring about his humiliation; his only thought was escape.

The knights who had accompanied him had been caught in the blast and were gone without a trace. Setnio, trembling, turned his head. Standing there, seemingly untouched, was the black-haired man. His skin was fair and clear, his features delicately sculpted – a beauty that would naturally draw attention. Had they met under different circumstances, Setnio might have admired him, perhaps even tried to catch his eye. But now, he desperately avoided his gaze. The man’s detached demeanor seemed more terrifying than any demon from hell, for he was the architect of this destruction.

Fortunately, the man seemed oblivious to his surroundings, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Relieved, Setnio swallowed hard and followed the man’s line of sight. The wall in front of him was deeply gouged, and Duke Karibdis was slumped within the indentation, practically embedded in the stone. It was a sight that defied belief.

A Sword Master was a being who had transcended human limitations. Since reaching that pinnacle, the Duke had never tasted defeat. It was inconceivable that he could be so utterly overwhelmed. At least, Setnio had believed so, until this moment.

But this mysterious man, appearing out of nowhere, had shattered that illusion. He had toyed with the Duke as if he were a plaything. His movements were too swift to follow, and unfamiliar, devastating spells had rained down in an unrelenting torrent. The Duke had been clearly overwhelmed, struggling to defend himself, unable to mount any effective counterattack. It was like watching an adult effortlessly dominate a child.

“You are not human.”

The Duke’s words before the fight echoed in Setnio’s mind, along with the man’s relaxed smile and confirmation.

If not human, then what? The Count desperately searched for an answer. The first possibility that sprang to mind was a demon. The man’s terrifyingly potent magic and jet-black hair fueled this suspicion.

The children of the Demon God, the demon race, were known for their black hair. Over time, intermingling bloodlines had diluted the trait, but the first emperor of the Swalt Empire, blessed by the Demon God, had also possessed black hair. Thus, black hair had long been regarded as a symbol of nobility within the Empire.

But he quickly dismissed the thought. Black hair, while not ubiquitous in the Swalt Empire, wasn’t particularly rare either. Perhaps because it was a land blessed by the Demon God, it was a color occasionally seen on the streets. To suspect someone of being a demon solely based on hair color was too great a leap.

Moreover, the man’s eyes were different. Another defining characteristic of demons was their red eyes. While the intensity varied, all demons possessed reddish eyes, a result, according to academic theories, of the Heavenly God’s curse. In the distant past, during the Great War of the Heavenly Demon, the angry Heavenly God had cursed the demon race, turning their eyes red in retribution for the countless angels who had perished. Consequently, even if a demon attempted to disguise themselves, they could not alter their eye color. But the man before him possessed eyes that could hardly be described as red, even euphemistically.

‘Besides, if he were a demon, there would be no reason to attack us. But if they aren’t, what race could possibly toy with a Sword Master like this…….’

……There is.

That thought sent a shiver down Setnio’s spine. Beings who lived for eternity, observing history from places beyond human reach. A race with magic as potent as the demons, and the only race known to wield countless high-level spells with ease!

‘Su, surely…….’

“Hiiiik!”

The moment the man’s gaze flickered in his direction, Setnio reflexively screamed and covered his head with his arms. The wet patch between his legs grew even larger.

The man—Meseterius—regarded him with a fleeting look of pity, then turned his attention back to the man embedded in the wall. Considering his opponent was a Sword Master, his preemptive strike, allowing no openings, had been remarkably effective. No matter how skilled in swordsmanship, one was helpless against a barrage of rapidly cast spells. The final blow seemed to have been particularly devastating, as the Duke had remained motionless ever since, his blood-soaked hair hanging limply.

“Hey, are you dead already?”

“…….”

“Hmph, looks like it’s going to end more anticlimactically than I thought. This is a bit boring. Was I expecting too much? Maybe he’s just a Sword Master in name only?”

Even with the deliberate taunts, there was no response. Meseterius clicked his tongue in disappointment. It was satisfying to punish the detestable man, but unilaterally tormenting a helpless being wasn’t his style. Of course, if the opponent had been his equal, he would have felt differently, but as it was…

“Well, anyway, don’t feel too unfairly treated. This is all because you provoked me first. Who told you to touch someone else’s things carelessly? You see, I hate being robbed to the extreme.”

In truth, his pride was wounded even more, but Meseterius stubbornly clung to other justifications. He didn’t want to dwell on the humiliation of being defeated by a human, even for a moment.

At that moment, Karibdis was still breathing weakly, though motionless. Unfortunately for Meseterius, who was trying to salvage his dignity with rationalizations, the sounds Karibdis was making were lost in the ringing in his ears.

Was breathing always this laborious and painful? His body felt leaden as blood rapidly drained away. He had grown sickeningly accustomed to pain since childhood, surviving near-death experiences countless times. He knew the meaning of the sensations coursing through him.

So, is death finally coming for me?

It was sooner than he had anticipated, but he felt no resentment. Perhaps it was the allure of rest, arriving just as he had begun to crave it.

It is an order.

A faint voice echoed in the recesses of his mind, a voice he had heard before. Karibdis slowly blinked, his blood-stained vision gradually clearing.

Do not die before me.

The tear-filled voice was pathetic, yet more noble than ever. Before those bead-like tears, behind that fragile back that seemed on the verge of breaking, he had sworn an oath.

“I will definitely protect this person…….”

Ah, that’s right. He sighed, as if expelling the thought, and gripped his sword. He felt his distant consciousness returning. Yes, he couldn’t die yet. He remembered his promise to watch over her until the very end. Until then, his life was not his own.

At that moment, a faint heat emanated from the sword. Before he could register his surprise, an unfamiliar voice echoed in his mind.

―Do you want to protect?

“……!”

Karibdis reflexively raised his head, but saw no one who could have spoken to him. Was he hallucinating? He was about to resign himself to that conclusion when the voice spoke again.

―Is there something you want to protect?

This time, he hadn’t imagined it. He felt a strong vibration from the hilt of his sword. Startled, he looked down and saw the blade glowing white. It was a magical artifact, deliberately left behind as bait. A cold air seeped from within. Karibdis gripped the sword tightly.

‘Is this you talking?’

―That is correct.

‘Who are you?’

―Blaster.

Blaster?

Karibdis frowned at the unfamiliar name. The voice continued, oblivious to his confusion.

―I am an existence created to protect the beliefs of those who protect. Your longing will has awakened me.

‘Protect the beliefs of those who protect…….’

―Will you make a contract with me?

He was taken aback by the sudden proposal.

‘Contract?’

―I will give you strength. The strength to protect your beliefs.

‘Strength to protect beliefs…….’

―I will be able to help you.

‘……Even if that is a belief that has already faded?’

―Even so.

Karibdis closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps this voice was from the devil. No, from the moment he had answered its call, he had likely strayed from the path of righteousness.

“……I don’t care.”

He laughed, a mirthless sound. Blood welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks like tears.

“I gratefully accept that offer.”

Wheeing. A cool wind enveloped him as he spoke, as if his entire being was being lifted by a powerful gust. He reveled in the sensation of weightlessness as a low voice echoed repeatedly in his mind.

―The contract has been made.

―Oh you who walk a lonely path.

―Until the breath of the world changes, I will be by your side.

‘Until the breath of the world…… changes…….’

The last sentence, its meaning obscure, troubled him, but he quickly dismissed it. Whatever it meant, the only thing that mattered to Karibdis now was the surge of power coursing through him.

Karibdis took a deep breath, remaining in his slumped position. He felt energy gradually filling his battered body. It felt like something was enveloping him, but he felt no resistance. Meseterius, too, instinctively sensed the change.

‘Huh? Why does the atmosphere feel a little different?’

Karibdis slowly rose from the pile of rubble. Meseterius watched him warily, then snorted. The sight of him staggering, struggling to stand on blood-soaked legs, conveyed no sense of threat. He seemed to be gasping for his last breath.

“I’m asking just in case, but you’re not thinking of facing me in that state, are you?”

“……Come.”

“Hey, hey. Are you out of your mind from the pain? Don’t you understand? You can’t beat me.”

“If you don’t come, I’ll go.”

“Haha, what great confidence. It would be better to just die like that, you’re really foolish…….”

Meseterius abruptly stopped speaking and instinctively recoiled. Swish, something fluttered before his eyes, accompanied by a faint breeze. He realized it was his severed hair. Karibdis, already upon him, had swung his sword.

‘I didn’t sense his presence!’

The attack wasn’t particularly fast, yet Meseterius had been completely unaware of his approach. Even now, standing directly before him, he couldn’t sense him. Meseterius stared at Karibdis, his eyes wide with disbelief. An energy that hadn’t been there before now flowed through him. It was undeniably the power of wind.

“What are you…….”

“Why?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know! Why do you suddenly have the energy of a spirit!”

“A spirit? Hmm, was that a spirit?”

Looking at Karibdis, who asked as if it were nothing, he bit his lip. Had he made a contract with a spirit in that short time? No, something was wrong. He had never heard of a spirit being summoned without a summoning ritual. Besides, the power he felt from him was completely different from what spiritists usually exuded. It was definitely the energy of a spirit, but it felt like a completely separate existence from him? In particular, the fact that he could no longer feel his presence was truly incomprehensible. This level of power was only possible for Minerva, the Spirit King among the wind spirits.

The Water King embodies healing and vitality.

The Fire King embodies power and ability.

The Earth King embodies insight and prophecy.

The Wind King embodies defense and concealment.

Minerva’s wind barrier completely conceals a person’s presence, turning their very existence into a shadow of the world. Lower spirits can imitate it, but only weakly, and he, as a dragon, could easily detect it. And of course, he had to. But now, he couldn’t read Karibdis’s presence at all. The power protecting him surpassed Minerva.

It didn’t make sense for something other than a wind spirit to use the power of concealment, and it was even more impossible for a lower spirit to be as strong as its king, so in the end, it had to be Minerva’s own ability. But he couldn’t completely conclude that it was. If he had really made a contract with the Spirit King, the repercussions wouldn’t have ended at this level.

‘Damn it! What is it, then! What the hell is going on? Who has the Spirit King’s ability without being the Spirit King…….’

Then, Meseterius suddenly remembered a story he had heard long ago. A rumor about a sword that the Wind Spirit King had crafted. Long ago, Minerva had made a contract with a human and created a sword that sealed her power within it for him. Because of that, the wind had lost a great deal of energy, and the flow of air had become thinner ever since.

What did that sword look like? He had heard that it had a plain and simple shape, belying its tremendous power. With that thought, Meseterius unconsciously looked at the sword Karibdis was holding. It was a very ordinary-looking sword. He knew it was originally his, thanks to the tracking magic circle engraved on it. He vaguely remembered that it was the least impressive of his collection, and had been neglected.

But now, a white mist of unknown origin was flowing from that ordinary sword. He could clearly feel the energy emanating from it being transmitted to its wielder.