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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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‘This is…!’
Ronan’s eyes widened. The Savior’s swordsmanship resembled Navirose style remarkably. Taught by her a wanderer she had encountered in the southern jungle.
[TL/N: There was an error in the previous chapter. Now with more context, it’s clear that it was taught to ‘her’, Navirose, not ‘him’.]
However, there was a vast difference in skill level. Just from that brief clash, it was evident. While the Navirose style was among the finest swordsmanship Ronan had seen, compared to the Savior’s blade, it felt like a crude imitation. An inexistent hand began to itch.
‘…Can I follow that?’Doubt crept in for the first time; he wasn’t sure he could replicate what he saw. Ronan found himself navigating through the maze the sword painted, uncertain. A man in a robe approached.
“You’ve done well.”
“Retrieve the fragmented horn. It’s a precious material.”
“Understood.”
Even after their conversation ended, the man didn’t leave. He cautiously spoke up, fingers fidgeting.
“…I could have killed him.”
“Perhaps.”
“Did you stop me despite knowing that?”
“Because you wouldn’t have been able to kill Navarda.”
The man, who was hit right on the head, fell silent. Had Navarda, angered by the death of its servant, come personally, he would undoubtedly have turned into a handful of ashes. The silent man’s lips parted once more.
“…If it were the Savior, would it be possible?”
【That’s enough.】
Suddenly, the Savior’s voice lowered. It was a commanding tone, as if someone else entirely had spoken. In that moment, the emitted authority made the man hunch his shoulders.
“…Apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
“It’s fine. Go and rest.”
The Savior’s voice returned to its original tone. The man bowed and withdrew. The Savior, adjusting his robe, addressed Alivriha.
“Alivriha. Would you oversee the nearby construction for a few months with Elysia and ■■?”
“What’s this, planning to travel somewhere?”
“It seems I might need to meet Navarda. Even if it was just an injured finger, the fact that I disturbed her clan remains true.”
“Haha, your strategies are excellent. I don’t think she’ll mind, but it’s safer that way.”
Alivriha chuckled. He appreciated the Savior’s attitude, respecting the dragon’s ways. Patting his chest, Alivriha asserted confidently.
“Leave it to me. By the way, be cautious passing through Central Kaiynax.”
“Why’s that?”
“Not long ago, a young one turned blue and set a lair. It’s fertile land, so humans just won’t listen.”
Alivriha grumbled, the subtle expression on his face making the Savior smirk.
“Still, seems like you don’t entirely dislike it.”
“Haha, caught me? A vigorous youth reminds me of my prime. We’re both Black Dragons, after all.”
“I should greet them. What’s their name?”
“Orse. It has four wings, so you’ll recognize it at a glance.”
At the mention of Orse, Ronan let out a bitter laugh. Once again, he felt the grimness of his past.
‘It’s a sight to behold. An infant dragon.’
The incident of Orse’s departure to the West after being defeated in a decisive battle with the first Emperor has long slipped into legend rather than history. After brief greetings, the Savior turned away.
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
Elysia and the attendants saw him off. It was the moment he left the village. Pop! Suddenly, Ronan’s vision went dark.
‘Damn it, what now?’
As if he were blinded even with his eyes wide open. Ronan was about to curse in frustration when suddenly, brightness flooded in, revealing the village’s scene.
But it wasn’t through the Savior’s eyes. The imagery shifted and changed, resembling the broadcasted footage of the intermediate evaluation during Navirose’s time.
‘What are you trying to show me?’
Ronan tilted his head in confusion. Time in the footage sped unnaturally fast. Sunrise and sunset repeated each time he blinked.
People gathered from various places, just as Elysia mentioned. Spirits drew in river currents, winding through the village. Gradually, what started as a settlement expanded into a colossal community, almost a city.
Chieftains became village heads, village heads became lords. The seed sown on the day the dragon was ousted grew into a towering tree, casting its shade.
It was when flags depicting hexagonal castles fluttered atop the city walls built of bricks. Quietly, the Savior and his entourage left the city.
However, their vanishing act as smoke ended in failure. Despite escaping in the dead of night, seeing those who followed, the Savior spoke up.
“I’m not a great figure you can believe in and follow.”
“Savior, there’s not a soul in this city unaware of your miracles.”
“These are your miracles. Offer thanks to your ancestors and seek rest.”
“If we can’t look at the same star, at least permit us to gaze upon your back!”
Despite the Savior’s protests, people remained stubborn. Eventually, he had to leave with just a farewell. Ronan nodded slowly.
‘This is how their power increased.’
They roamed the continent for a long time before settling in the distant north. The bewildered natives, who lived in small tribes, shouted in panic.
“Who are you?”
“We’ve come to help, in this harsh yet resilient land.”
The Savior said. The cycle they had witnessed before was repeating itself. A village, initially a collection of makeshift tents, had transformed over several years into a magnificent fortress.
Once they established themselves to a degree, they soon departed the north. By that time, those self-proclaimed followers had multiplied several times over.
The Savior continued to foster communities and repeat the pattern of leaving. Then, one day, while walking side by side, Alivriha spoke up.
“We might need to decide on a name for our organization.”
They were once again wandering the continent in search of a place to prosper. The vast blue sky stretched above the desolate western plains. The Savior raised an eyebrow.
“Do we really need to do that?”
“Well, everyone seems to want it. It builds a sense of belonging, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve heard we’re already known as the Nebula Congregation in the outside world.”
“That doesn’t sound impressive. Plus, it’s a name given by those who treat us as heretics.”
Alivriha furrowed his brow. Elysia, walking alongside and dressed in a flipped robe, nodded in agreement, seeming to support Alivriha’s opinion.
“I also agree with Alivriha.”
“Yes, using the term ‘congregation’ might naturally prompt others to be wary.”
Turning his head, the contemplative Savior looked back. He noticed the people following him. Ronan frowned at the unimaginable number of heads.
‘Damn, how many people are there?’
There seemed to be at least thousands. People of all ages, genders, and races gathered, each wearing a pristine white robe, mimicking the Savior’s attire. Their procession across the plains resembled a shepherd leading a flock of sheep.
“The name…”
The Savior murmured, eventually speaking as he looked up at the sky.
“Nebula Clazier.”
“Oh, what does that mean?”
“The Nebula Congregation. It’s the old language pronunciation of the name the world calls us.”
“Well, it’s basically the same thing in the end.”
Alivriha chuckled lightly. The Savior, who had paused for a moment, lifted a child following closely behind him onto his shoulders. A gentle laughter resonated.
“Hahaha!”
“As long as the meaning doesn’t get lost, what’s in a name?”
The sky was clear, the wind refreshing. With each step, the sensation of the grass beneath was quite pleasant. Lost in contemplation while gazing at the horizon, the Savior muttered softly.
“I believe people can become better. Even if it’s a foolish race driven by self-destruction instincts…”
With an inexplicable whisper, the footage ended. The vision went dark. For a moment, it seemed pitch black before light returned.
****
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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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“Ugh…”
Ronan opened his eyes. The hazy sky spread above his forehead. Thud. Thump. Somewhere, the sound of slightly damp logs burning could be heard.
Suddenly, a pungent stench pricked his nose. Furrowing his brow, Ronan slowly got up from his position.
Whoosh! A fierce gust dampened his forehead. Ronan, realizing his senses had returned, widened his eyes.
“This…”
His body was also back. Given the sight level, it was Ronan’s own body, not the Savior’s.
Lamancha and Ymir. Two swords were fully intact, hanging from each side of the waist. But there was no room for rejoicing in such a fact. Hell unfolded before his eyes.
“Fuck. What happened?”
He stood on a cliff, providing a higher elevation that allowed a full view of the surroundings. The city was engulfed in flames.
There were no survivors within the devastatingly destroyed city walls. The roaring flames swallowed corpses and debris, intensifying the destruction. Rising smoke obscured the stars and the moon.
The river curving through the city was tinged crimson, boiling. The heat and swirling embers made it difficult to keep his eyes open. That’s when a familiar voice sounded not far away.
“How futile. To leave the place unguarded and end up like this.”
Turning his head, he saw the familiar figures. The Savior and his entourage were descending upon the city.
‘Shit!’
Ronan unconsciously stooped. The Savior’s face was morphing into flickering shadows. Alivriha, who had been observing the carnage, spoke up.
“Another war?”
“Yes.”
The man in the flipped robe nodded. His words lingered, while in the distance, the clash of arms still echoed. The cries of killing and dying mingled with the wind.
“How many times has this happened? Witnessing destruction.”
“On a country-by-country basis alone, it has happened more than a hundred times.”
“And among them, how many of those nations did we contribute to the founding of?”
“Probably over seven percent.”
Tuu! Alivriha spat on the ground. Elysia, who had been silently observing the devastation, chewed her lips.
Observing the surroundings, Ronan realized this was the village he had first visited, where he had vanquished the dragon by possessing the Savior’s body. The Savior, who had remained silent, finally spoke.
“Let’s go.”
“Go? Where are you referring to?”
“We need to save the remaining people.”
“The city’s inhabitants are all dead. Haven’t you noticed?”
“There are survivors among the invaders, the injured they abandoned.”
Alivriha and Elysia’s faces hardened. The man who barely managed to take a deep breath spoke.
“…Rescuing the believers should take priority. You must return to the sanctuary promptly to assess the situation.”
“There is no superiority or inferiority in mortal lives. Follow me.”
The Savior moved his feet. However, no one followed. A voice filled with anger came from behind him.
“…I refuse.”
The Savior turned his head. The one who spoke was the man in the flipped robe. He continued speaking in a strained voice.
“…I can no longer comprehend this. I have followed the Savior for thousands of years and tried to understand his meaning, but now I am at my limit.”
“Your limit?”
“That’s right. This isn’t salvation. It’s as foolish as pouring water into a leaky jar. No matter how hard we try, the mortals only continue to plunge themselves into the abyss”
The man in the flipped robe began recounting events that Ronan hadn’t witnessed during his absence. It was a catalog of mundane human affairs—killing each other, waging wars for trivial reasons, self-destruction…
Yet, within the passionate tone, there was deep-seated resentment. The man, pouring out words, glared at the Savior.
“The Nebula Clazier needs to be reborn. At least, this is not the correct way of salvation.”
“Are you guys of the same opinion?”
The man in the flipped robe continued. He seemed to have reached his limit after following the Savior for thousands of years, seeking understanding. Alivriha and Elysia, who hesitated, averted their gazes. They responded by not moving from their place.
“Is that so?”
“Savior…”
It seemed as if conversations had occurred among the three beforehand. The Savior, gazing at them in silence, nodded his head.
“If that’s the case, then it can’t be helped. This is where we bid farewell.”
“…Are you really going to leave like this?”
“Yes. There seems to be no point in saying more. I hope each of you finds your own answers.”
Without hesitation, the Savior began walking toward the edge of the cliff. It felt excessively hollow to bid farewell to companions who had shared countless ages. The man in the flipped robe shouted desperately.
“Savior!”
“May the Protection of the Stars be with you.”
However, the Savior didn’t stop or even look back. Then, the figure of the man in the flipped robe disappeared from view. Just as Ronan felt an instinctual dread and was about to say something…
“Wait…!”
Thud! A sound echoed, akin to a stone dropping into a swamp. A silence descended upon the cliff as if time had stopped. The Savior slowly lowered his gaze. A gleaming blade protruded from his abdomen.
“Ugh…”
“I understand. I will find the answer.”
The man who had disappeared appeared behind the Savior. Blood was dripping from the spot where the tip of his sword had stabbed through. He brought his face close to the Savior’s ear and whispered dryly.
“So, leave your strength behind.”
“■■…”
The Savior body swayed. It seemed like it wasn’t an ordinary sword. He gazed at the man without any resistance.
The man was holding the Savior’s neck with one arm, preventing the sword from being withdrawn. A sparkling energy was being absorbed through the sword’s edge. Ronan, belatedly understanding the situation, cursed.
“Fuck…!”
From here on, it was an instinctual reaction. Ronan rushed forward with force. Closing the distance in an instant, he swung his sword and shouted.
“You bastard! What are you doing!”
“What?”
The man in the flipped robe turned his head. The two blades were already close to his eyes. Hastily drawing his sword, he raised his arm. Clang! A fierce metallic sound reverberated on the cliff.
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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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