Chapter 170: The Festival of Swords (13)

Chapter 170: The Festival of Swords (13)

The day had dawned. As always, the sky over Parzan was adorned with a clear, azure hue. The strong winds that had blown throughout the night had finally subsided

Participants wasted no time after finishing their morning meal. The final checkpoint was situated not far from the summit, requiring a considerable climb to reach.

Once again, at the forefront of the procession were the swift-footed Ronan and Navirose. Ronan gazed towards the summit where the sacred site was located, opening his mouth.

"This mountain climb is finally coming to an end."

"The Holy Land is still ahead. Though, considering the distance from the last checkpoint, it's practically within arm's reach once we topple over."

"True, that's right."

"By the way, you came in quite late last night. Anything happen?"

Navirose asked. Caught off guard by the direct question, Ronan tried to maintain a nonchalant expression. After spending the night indulging in alcohol with Zaifa, he had only returned to the checkpoint in the early morning. Ronan, racking his brain, casually changed the subject.

"Uh... I went to get some fresh air. Someone asked me to teach them how to wield a sword, so I showed them a few things."

"I see. Did you enjoy your time with that cat, Zaifa?"

"Well, it was alright... I guess. Oops."

Ronan took a sharp breath. Navirose continued walking with an indifferent expression. Ronan, swallowing hard, spoke.

"...Did you know?"

"It would be strange if I didn't. How many times do you think I've sparred with that cat?"

"Sorry. I was afraid you wouldn't like it if I mentioned it."

Ronan scratched his head, looking somewhat uneasy. It was uncertain whether being observant was a trait of a swordsman or if a perceptive person became a swordsman. After a brief silence, Navirose spoke again.

"Never mind. It's inevitable that you'd get along. Just remember that what I said earlier is something to keep in mind."

"What did you say? Oh, about Zaifa being dangerous."

"Yes. Just remember that it's not merely because I dislike that rogue. Also, consider who unleashed the night of fangs. Hatred is like a plague, easily contagious."

"Hatred?"

Ronan raised an eyebrow at the ominous words. Navirose, still maintaining a stoic expression, continued walking. Though she said it was fine verbally, it seemed she was not entirely comfortable with the fact that Ronan had gotten on with Zaifa. He pondered how to resolve the situation. From behind, a familiar voice reached them.

"Hey."

Simultaneously, someone's palm gently caressed Ronan's back. The touch seemed to become more sinister as time passed. Ronan turned his head with a disdainful expression. To no one's surprise, it was Lynn, her hand on his buttocks.

"Aren't you going to take your hand off?"

"I didn't get a chance to ask yesterday. Do you like me that much?"

"What's with the sudden nonsense?"

"I know everything. You were trying to impress me, weren't you?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"You're weird. You single-handedly defeated a hundred monsters in the exam yesterday."

Lynn playfully jabbed his side with her elbow. Ronan chuckled. It seemed true that when something was too absurd, people tend to laugh.

"Did you eat something weird?"

"Hehe. It might have been old-fashioned, but it wasn't bad. I'll consider your proposal positively."

Lynn flashed a mischievous smile. It looked like she had eaten something strange for breakfast. As she walked ahead, patting Ronan's buttocks, Shullifen passed by like a breeze, muttering.

"Poor Student Council President."

"Fuck, why are you saying that too?"

They arrived at the final checkpoint in the afternoon. Although the checkpoints they had passed were similar in scale, this one had the best facilities. Several people were already milling around. Ronan raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"It seems like they arrived first."

He spoke very little, and there were no companions accompanying him. Walking around with a stiff expression, he exuded an air of solitude that did not go unnoticed by those around him. Observers started to murmur about the noticeable difference.

"Why is the atmosphere over there like that?"

"I heard there's a terrifying guy there; is it because of that bastard?"

"Shouldn't someone take away his sword? He looks like he might commit murder any moment."

Certainly, something seemed off. Ronan shook his head as if he sympathized.

Now that he thought about it, the presumed demon hadn't appeared yet. It would be good to at least see his face before the sparring begins. Ronan, who was looking around, grabbed a man walking nearby and asked.

"Hey, do you know where that terrifying guy is? The one with the pure white hair."

"...Why are you looking for that bastard? I don't know!"

The man waved his arm as if to dismiss Ronan. Frowning at the unexpected and nervous reaction, Ronan suddenly became aware that the other participants from Aran Parzan were giving him hostile looks.

"What are you all staring at?"

Even if one were to drop their pants and urinate right there, they probably wouldn't look at them with such hostility. Russell, who saw it, muttered to himself in response.

"I think it'd be worth a try at this level..."

"Huh?"

Russell's gaze swiftly scanned the participants from Gran Parzan. There was something suspicious about his tone. Ronan inquired.

"What's worth trying?"

"Hmm...? Ah, it seemed like the spirit of those participants over there was dampened, so it seems we can smoothly pass the final test without much trouble. It's like winning without even fighting."

Russell chuckled and replied. His smile seemed awkward for some reason. Ronan warned him.

"Don't talk nonsense. It will all be over by tomorrow anyway."

"Is there really an 'over'? Come on, let's go unpack our things."

Russell, shouldering his backpack once again, took the lead and walked ahead. The hesitant participants followed him one by one. Ronan felt uneasy but moved forward. Everything would be over by tomorrow, as he had said.

****

It was evening. The anticipation that participants from Aran Parzan and those from other regions would not be able to mingle well proved to be pleasantly wrong. A woman, sitting across from Ronan and chatting, widened her eyes in admiration.

"Ah, so you're the one who defeated a hundred monsters in the third test. We were wondering why so many monsters were taken from our side. You're amazing."

"It was nothing much. Who defeated the most on your side?"

She was one of the participants from Aran Parzan. Conversations naturally flowed among participants from both sides in various places of the restaurant. Ronan, having finished training a bit later and coming separately, didn't see his companions around.

The most significant contribution to improving the atmosphere was undoubtedly the fermented barley beverage. As people mingled and casually drank a beer or two, conversations naturally unfolded.

Although there were multiple lodgings, there was only one restaurant. The fact that participants had to eat together and the demon, the one who lived on dew alone, didn't show up at the restaurant, were both significant helps. The woman, who had been hesitating, spoke up.

"... As you know, that demon. It was the last round, and he slaughtered all the remaining 97 monsters."

She twisted her lips as if disgusted. It seemed to be a quite standardized nickname, judging by the way she mentioned the demon. She gulped down her beer as if trying to wash away unpleasant memories.

"What did he do to make so many people talk about it? You look quite strong too."

Ronan pointed to the necklace she was wearing. It was a silver pendant shaped like a flame, the symbol of the Flame Knights, one of the ten most powerful groups in the Empire.

It was one of the few knight orders Ronan had known since his previous life, and just being part of it already proved her skills. The woman, playing with her necklace, smiled wryly.

"Ahaha... I thought the same, but the difference was on a different level. You should have seen it for yourself."

"Where is he now?"

"As soon as he arrived, he has been holed up in the lodging. Always like that. It's rather fortunate."

She then detailed the demon's actions during the three tests. In the first test, he cut off the wrists of all the other participants, and in the second, a flag battle, not only the opposing team but also allies who got in the way were killed under the pretense of an accident. Thanks to using a training sword in a clever manner, he avoided any penalties.

In the third test, as she just mentioned, he slaughtered 97 monsters, and the carnage was so horrifying that it was unbearable to watch. Indeed, his actions were consistent with Russell's description of a demon. The woman, downing another gulp of beer, continued.

"Puha... One clear fact is that he's associated with the Ferocious Blade Croden."

"Croden? That guy who used to be the Sword Saint?"

——————

At the unexpected remark, Ronan raised an eyebrow. He distinctly remembered discussing Shullifen and Croden during the first test.

A scoundrel who killed all other participants just because he didn't receive the Holy Sword. A culprit with a meticulously crafted identity that made the process of confirming the participants background painstakingly thorough. The woman nodded in agreement.

"Yes, everyone who remembers him is pretty certain. Either a disciple or a hidden child. Otherwise, it's impossible to resemble him so closely. Even his monstrous skills seem convincingly fitting."

"What's so similar?"

"Everything. The way he wields a sword, his brutality, and his appetite for eating only raw meat... the only thing that makes him different is his quiet personality."

With a voice dripping with anger, the woman unraveled the tale entwined with the torrential sword. Ronan chuckled throughout the story, not because it was amusing, but because the villainy was so audacious.

He was infamous for burning down an entire rural village for falsely accusing him of harboring demons, or kidnapping women he fancied. His peculiar taste for consuming only raw flesh was also well-known, and there were even rumors that he engaged in cannibalism.

At this point, Ronan began to understand why Navirose was so revered for bringing down Croden from his position as the Sword Saint. The woman finished her explanation and clapped her hands, saying:

"That's right, I heard that Navirose participated. Is that true? And by the way, you mentioned you're from the Philleon Academy, right?"

"That's correct. We came up together."

"Kyaa! What kind of person is she in real life? We can meet her tomorrow, right? I've never had the chance to see her in person, being entrusted to the knights since I was young. Thanks to her, I've been inspired to wield a sword..."

The woman's initially gloomy expression brightened in an instant. It seemed she admired Navirose greatly. Amid her enthusiastic praises, someone shouted from a corner of the restaurant.

"Riley, stop it and come here! We were in the middle of a meeting!"

"Ah, okay!"

The woman got up from her seat. She flashed a smile at Ronan and spoke with a regretful tone.

"Sorry. I should go now; it seems I have things to attend to."

"It was a pleasure."

"Ahaha... me too. I hope we can meet at the Holy Land."

She turned her back, and Ronan turned his head in the direction she walked. In a secluded corner, five men and women were whispering to each other. They all seemed to be participants from Aran Parzan, except for one. Ronan squinted his eyes in surprise.

'When did that bastard become so friendly?'

Russell was gesturing and actively talking to a group of five men and women. Riley, as the woman was called, sat down between the group. Ronan clicked his tongue as if pitying them. What was the point of planning a conspiracy now?

He quietly finished his remaining drink and returned to the lodging. He was contemplating how to deal with the sulking Navirose, and it seemed like he had a stroke of luck. If he told her that he had found a devoted fan of hers, she would definitely feel better.

After a quick wash, Ronan lay down on the bed. The exhaustion from the long hike hit him as soon as he closed his eyes.

****

"Ugh..."

Ronan opened his eyes. The chill in his body indicated he had kicked off the blanket in his sleep. He sighed as he sat up.

"...Too early to be awake."

The window revealed a dark blue night sky, suggesting that dawn was approaching. His roommate, Shullifen, was peacefully asleep in his bed.

Ronan quietly walked out of the room. He intended to smoke a cigarette and gather his thoughts. As he opened the door, a sudden chill filled the air. Fumbling through his pockets, Ronan muttered in frustration.

"Shit"

He realized his pipe was missing. The memory of Navirose taking his pipe flashed in his mind. Back then, he let it slide due to the atmosphere, but now he felt the injustice. Ronan muttered while kicking a small stone, but was soon relieved of his anger when he remembered the scene of him seeing Navirose's naked body.

"...It's not a big loss."

With both hands in his pockets, Ronan made no move to leave. Since he was already awake, taking a walk or going back inside wouldn't hurt. Inhaling deeply, the pre-dawn air swept through his lungs. Ronan murmured quietly as he wandered through the silent streets.

"It's been a long journey."

Finally, today was the day. Once this test was over, he would step onto the Holy Land. The secret about the demon would also be revealed in a few hours. Ronan wandered around aimlessly, recalling the conversation with Zaifa the night before yesterday.

"...Hmm?"

Ronan sniffed. A peculiar scent, mixed with the breeze, reached his nostrils. Turning his head in the direction of the wind, he frowned.

"...The smell of blood."

There was no mistaking it. It was the unmistakable scent of fresh blood. Ronan quickened his pace. The feeling of something going wrong stabbed at his guts.

'What the hell is happening again?'

As his steps became faster, Ronan eventually started running. His footsteps echoed through the silent streets, shattering the silence. The scent of blood grew stronger.

"Ah... fuck."

Finally coming to a stop, Ronan looked up. A log cabin serving as a food storage facility stood alone. The scent of blood wafted from within. Ronan hoped they were just processing freshly caught wild animals.

Taking a deep breath, Ronan pushed open the wooden door. The door unlatched creaked open with a squeaky sound. The accumulated stench of blood enveloped Ronan like a mist. Rows of hanging hooks, shelves stacked with ingredients up to the ceiling, and a side door leading to a meat storage area came into view.

As Ronan was about to take his next step, something touched his foot. He lowered his gaze, and his face stiffened. A head, covered with an overturned hood, was rolling on the ground.

"Russell."

Ronan instinctively spoke. It was undoubtedly Russell. Next to the severed headless body lay a corpse strewn about like trash. His heart started beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode.

The face was extremely distorted, it seemed like he had suffered terribly before he died. Both hands were missing from his body lying in a pool of blood.

Russell was not the only corpse. A total of six corpses were lying around the warehouse, with cleanly severed heads and wrists. Among them was Riley, the female knight he had conversed with the previous night. A sharp dagger had pierced her mouth and exited through the back of her head.

"What the... hell is this..."

The sword marks left on the cut surface were eerily familiar. Squeak - At that moment, the side door inside the warehouse opened and a young man walked out. His lips were constantly gurgling as if he were chewing on something. His white hair was stained red. Recognizing the young man was not difficult.

"Hmm?"

The young man belatedly noticed Ronan and turned his head. Their eyes met. Swallowing what he was chewing, he spoke with an annoyed tone.

"What are you?"

"This fucking bastard..."

Whether there was any shimmering mana present or not did not matter. A surge of anger, almost instinctive, propelled Ronan's body to move. The demon's eyes widened as Ronan grabbed the hilt of his sword. The sound of metal clashing between swords shattered the silence of the dawn.