CHAPTER 48…………………………….
Descent
I was arrogant.
I never thought so many would die.
No—rather, I never even considered it.
I was certain we would succeed easily.
For that purpose, I sealed away my own magic and branded my squad members with engravings.
And this… this is the result.
I could understand Hagen and the others resenting and blaming me.
That was why, all the more—
“<Devouring flames, bursting explosion, melting fire>.”
—I could not allow them to die as well.
“<Erupt like a volcano, scatter in all directions, burn everything to ash>.”
I could not stop chanting the spell.
“<Every drop of blood, every breath of life, detonate>.”
My mana circle was nearly depleted.
It was because I had been supplying mana to Ronan through the Oath of the Knight.
From the very contract itself, to all the mana he had consumed while holding back the Swarm.
Nearly all the mana I had reserved for firing Hell Blast was given to Ronan.
A spell with enough firepower to incinerate the entire Swarm?
The mana I had left was nowhere near enough.
So, I used the corpses of the squad members.
The engravings branded onto them forced their mana to remain even in death.
Mana does not immediately dissipate the moment one dies.
To manifest a 4th-circle intermediate spell—
“!”
A flood of magic.
Whoosh—
At the places where the corpses fell, yellow flames burst upward.
The red glow wrapped around the yellow fire, erupting in all directions.
Kwaaaaaang—!
The sound reached us only after the flames had already erupted.
The fire rose high, swelling outward in a mushroom shape.
In its midst, a long, writhing shadow twisted.
Screeeeeeeech—!
A harrowing, chilling shriek echoed on and on.
The calamity of the snow mountains—
A monster born of the dragon Vibriont’s grudge burned within the flames.
Screech—screeeeeee—!
As its screams slowly dwindled, its writhing body began to disintegrate in the fire.
The countless insects that formed the Swarm crumbled apart, scattering into fragments.
Crackle, crackle.
Amid the falling snow, yellow sparks danced.
The sky, once dyed red by the flames, was now choked in smoke and turned to ash-gray.
Screech—!
Screeee—!
Kreee—! Kkreee—!
The snow worms that remained screamed and hurled themselves into the still-burning flames.
Whether they sought to revive the Swarm, or simply had no reason left to live—
Whooosh—!
The fire devoured hundreds of snow worms, burning for a long while still.
Watching the flames blazing high—
“…It’s over.”
The battle had ended.
“We… have won.”
It was a hollow victory.
No cheers rang out.
No one wailed.
Too many had died for joy, and they were too exhausted for grief.
The survivors gathered around the fire, sitting silently, back to back.
The anger and curses they had hurled at me vanished as though they had never been.
They understood, at least in their minds, why I had acted as I did.
The bodies of the fallen had to be burned in the end anyway.
But understanding is different from the fury boiling in the heart.
The squad needed time to sort out their thoughts and emotions.
“…”
Leaving them behind, I descended to where the Swarm had burned away.
Though I said I would go alone, Hogg followed.
The snow worm bodies were reduced to ash, but the dragon’s skull remained intact.
Only a few blackened scorch marks marred it—its form was unbroken.
About thirty paces away from the skull, Ronan stood.
He did not move, head bowed.
At his feet lay the body of Siruela.
As I approached, Ronan lifted his gaze.
His jet-black eyes had grown even darker, swallowing all light.
“Why… why must it always…?”
Ronan grabbed me by the collar.
But he merely held on—
As though all his strength had already been spent wielding his sword.
His fist clutching my collar was frail, weak.
“Why… not me…?”
A choked voice escaped him in fragments.
He seemed to have much to say, but in the end, he could not voice anything.
Only biting his lip, lowering his head.
Together, I gazed at Siruela.
Her face showed no sign she knew she was dying.
Not peaceful, but not pained either.
If not for the gaping hole torn in her side, one might think she was merely asleep.
I bent down and ripped open her left sleeve.
There, clear as ever, was the mark of [龍].
The Dragon’s Brand had not faded.
“That’s…?!”
Seeing the brand, Ronan’s face twisted with rage.
“Why… hasn’t it vanished?”
“…”
I silently covered the mark with her sleeve and stood.
“You know something, don’t you?”
“I still haven’t…”
Siruela’s words echoed in my mind:
“No matter what happens, defeat the Calamity.”
“…It means I failed the Captain’s last request.”
“What? What’s that supposed to—”
“Take the Captain. After cremation…”
I cut him off.
“We descend.”
Ronan obeyed Esrik without resistance.
He had no thought of blaming him.
If Siruela and the others’ deaths were Esrik’s responsibility, then the survival of the rest was thanks to him.
Ronan could only curse his own lack of strength.
Hogg carried Siruela’s body.
They laid her gently atop a hastily built pyre.
“Captain…”
Gardner had barely survived—his severed shoulder cauterized, his broken bones bound with splints.
Even so, he lived.
“…Thank you, for everything.”
With reddened eyes, Gardner gazed long at her before setting the fire.
Crack, crackle.
The oil-soaked wood roared to life.
As though flames were her blanket, Siruela seemed only to fall into deep sleep.
Until the fire fully burned out, none of the squad averted their eyes.
When the flames were gone at last—
“The Captain is dead, and Gardner has lost an arm.”
Esrik stood before the squad and declared:
“From this moment, I lead all of you.”
No one questioned or objected.
Considering all he had done, it was natural.
More than that, no one had the energy left to argue.
Physically and mentally alike, they were spent.
All 84 survivors nodded in silence.
Some not even that much.
But Esrik did not mind.
“We descend.”
At his command, they began down the mountain.
The descent was far easier than the climb.
No snow worms to attack, and fewer numbers made for quicker movement.
What had taken nine days to ascend, they covered in only three to descend.
Yet exhaustion cloaked every face, shadows deep under their eyes.
The joy of victory was left behind at the summit, and they carried only the weight of their comrades’ deaths.
And what awaited them…
“…Why is the gate closed?”
A massive iron gate, firmly shut.
They had left it wide open when they departed.
No one had remained at the fortress.
“Wait… there’s someone there?”
“What the hell—who are they?”
“Who gave them the right to be in our fortress?!”
Seeing the figures atop the walls and watchtowers, the squad shouted in fury.
“The Guards.”
Gardner staggered forward, voice low and filled with wrath.
That anger spread instantly among the squad.
“The Guard? Those bastards lost their minds…!”
“They seized our fortress while we were gone?!”
“Those sons of bitches really want to see this through, huh? Fine by me!”
The squad, as if waiting for this, released the malice they had carried since the mountain.
Gone was the hesitation and trembling from when they killed the spies.
“You bastards!”
Hagen roared, veins bulging in his neck.
“You dare squat where you don’t belong! Open the gate and get the hell out, now!”
A guard atop the wall heard his shout.
But instead of raising the gate—
Ding, ding, ding, ding—!
Alarm bells rang from the watchtowers.
“Those filthy—!”
The guards swarmed onto the walls.
Spears aimed downward, bows drawn, waiting for us to advance.
Daring us to come.
“…Pathetic.”
Ronan muttered and stepped forward.
Grrrk—
He drew his blade, still caked with blood.
The others followed, weapons raised.
Even Hogg, who never left Esrik’s side, stood beside Ronan this time—
Clang!
Bashing his shields together, snarling.
“They think squatting here for a moment makes them the owners of what we’ve defended all this time?”
Gardner, hobbling, one arm gone, still drew his sword.
Dangerous to behold, yet no one stopped him.
“Let’s show them we’re still alive.”
At his sharp words, the squad leaned forward, ready to charge.
And behind them—
“<Solid as stone, dazzling as light, from a sky not too high above>.”
A low voice intoned.
Recognizing the chant, the squad turned toward Hagen.
He had used it several times in this campaign.
But it was not Hagen speaking.
“<Grant no life, shine no warmth, only fall and reap>.”
Esrik had finished his incantation, one hand raised overhead.
Whoosh—!
A flame blazed in his palm, swelling brighter and brighter.
A small sun rose.
“.”
The blazing orb fell toward the fortress walls.
Screams of terror rang from the defenders.
Their spears and arrows could not hope to stop the falling Little Sun.
Despair descended.
Kwoooooom—!
The log walls exploded in an instant.
The watchtowers collapsed the moment the flames devoured them.
The fate of the guards atop them was obvious.
The squad knew all too well the power of Little Sun, which had burned hundreds of snow worms in a single blast.
They all turned, staring at Esrik in silence.
“Why are you stopping? Didn’t I say we were descending?”
For the first time since leaving the mountain, Esrik spoke.
“If you want to go down, the way is still long.”
He strode past their stunned gazes.
“Let’s go.”
One spell.
One sentence.
That was all it took to ignite flames in the hearts of the squad.
Flames that burned away doubt and resentment.
The blood shed for Siruela and the squad, the exhaustion piled atop one another in the snow mountain—
All of it was consumed by the fire within.
Faces once shadowed lit with fierce resolve.
Ronan, Hogg, Gardner, Hagen—and all the rest.
They all followed after Esrik.
