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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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Parzan, the Holy Land, where the Festival of Swords would be held, was situated in the central part of the continent. The journey took a whole five days due to certain points where one had to walk on foot.
It wasn’t a strict rule, but rather a consequence of the challenging terrain surrounding Parzan, forcing travelers to proceed on foot. Ronan and Shullifen, two days into their journey, were experiencing the hardship firsthand. Ronan spoke up.
“By the way, Instructor, I’m curious about something.”“What is it?”
“I mean, is there a specific reason for choosing a path like this? Not because it’s difficult or scary, I’m genuinely curious.”
The sky was clear without a single cloud. The three were walking along a narrow path, and the strong wind made it difficult to keep their eyes open.
Without any horses or carriages, and the path so narrow that they had to move in a single file, carrying backpacks heavier than most kids their age.
Up to this point, it wasn’t a big deal, but the real problem was being in the midst of rugged rocky mountains. Ronan, looking down at his feet, muttered a curse.
“Fuck.”
About 10 meters below, white mist lingered like a sea. The sky was clear to the point of being painful, yet it was unclear why there was mist only below.
What was certain was that taking even a single wrong step could lead straight to the afterlife. The mist covered the view below, making it impossible to determine the exact altitude, but judging by the sound after dropping a pebble, it wasn’t a height where a body could be preserved. Navirose answered.
“This is considered the best path.”
“Of course.”
“You seem skeptical. Even now, it’s not too late to change direction towards the northwest entrance. Climbing a cliff for three days wouldn’t be a bad experience.”
“Did I mention that you look even more beautiful today?”
“Even terrain like this is one of the factors that filter out the weak. Enough talking, just follow.”
Eventually, Ronan fell silent and continued walking. It seemed like thinking positively would be better for mental health.
Yeah, it’s just a bit of a challenging path. Where are the monsters or bandits? Ronan was rationalizing. From high above, a deafening roar, tearing through the eardrums, echoed.
“Pweeyooooott!”
It was a familiar sound. Soon, a huge shadow appeared over the heads of the three people. As they looked up, three small dots in the distance were seemling getting bigger and bigger at a rapid pace. Ronan, who had identified them despite the distance, frowned.
“Ah, fuck.”
Three huge griffons were descending with their wings folded. It seemed like Ronan’s group had been marked as prey.
The speed was not lenient; it seemed like they would reach here in about five seconds. Ronan, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, sighed, looking at Shullifen.
“I’ll handle it.”
“Got it.”
Shullifen muttered. Ronan pulled at the hilt of his sword. Infused with mana, the crimson blade of Lamancha revealed itself.
The griffons were already close enough where Ronan could make out the scars on their beaks. The huge front claws that could kill even orcs in an instant were shining in the sunlight.
“Pweoooh!”
“What a waste. They’d sell for a lot, if I caught one and sold it.”
The distance got narrower. It was the moment when the wind pressure from their wing flaps tousled Ronan’s hair. Lamancha drew a crescent-shaped beam of darkness that shot towards the griffons in a fan shape.
“Kueok…!”
Blood spurted. Internal organs tumbled down through the torn gaps in the skin. Sunlight seeped through the holes in the wings. The griffons, now like shredded beehives, plummeted into the fog below. Shullifen, sounding intrigued, commented.
“I thought about it during the spar the other day, but it’s quite a useful technique.”
“It’s useful.”
Ronan nodded in agreement, shaking his head after releasing the technique. It was a skill that had become usable only after extensive training.
Indeed, the technique manifested from a real core was more powerful than the fake core created by Vijra. Of course, it still needed further refinement due to its limited capacity. At that time, a griffon flew up from afar, tearing through the mist.
“Creuk! Cheaaak!”
“What’s that?”
Ronan raised an eyebrow. Despite being in a battered state, it seemed to have dodged a fatal blow by moving. He clicked his tongue, realizing he had missed the opportunity.
“Shit, I missed.”
The distance was too far for his sword energy to reach. The wind was blowing so strong that it seemed like Shullifen’s Storm Sword would miss as well. Nothing to be done about it. Ronan, resigned, was about to give up when the griffon, staggering through the air, stopped flapping its wings.
“Kruuk…?”
“Huh?”
Not only the wings but also the legs seemed immobilized, as if struck by some paralysis-inducing arrow. However, just for a moment, the plummeting griffon began to ascend again, flapping its wings.
What just happened? Ronan wondered in confusion. Suddenly, Navirose, who had been walking ahead, swung her sword aggressively. Swish! The crescent-shaped blade, slicing through the air, hit the griffon.
“Kreaaak!”
Amazing range and accuracy. The severed half of the body descended into the mist. Ronan turned to Navirose.
“Instructor?”
“Heuu… heuu…”
Navirose was breathing heavily, as if she had just returned from an all-out sprint. Ronan frowned as he observed her restless shoulders. He recalled seeing her in such a state once before.
“…Instructor?”
Ronan called out to her again. Navirose turned her head belatedly.
“Huff… Yes?”
“…!”
The moment their eyes met, a chilling shiver ran down Ronan’s spine. He almost dropped the scabbard as his arm stiffened.
Navirose’s pupils were narrowed vertically, reminiscent of snake eyes. Seeing Ronan’s confusion, Navirose seemed to snap out of it, murmuring as she covered her eyes with her palm.
“…Griffons need to be dealt with decisively because they can call for reinforcements. If even one is spared and goes back alive, it could cause trouble.”
“…Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Navirose removed her hand from her eyes. Her jade-green irises were back to their normal round shape. Ronan cautiously spoke.
“…Are you perhaps not fully recovered yet?”
It was evident. Navirose had undoubtedly attempted to use her Aura to its full extent just now. The transformation of her pupils into snake-like slits was proof of that. Seeing Ronan’s concern, Navirose turned away.
“Let’s move. We still have a long way to go.”
Thud…! The sound of the griffons crashing echoed belatedly from beneath the rocky mountains. Ronan didn’t say anything more. Shullifen was silent as well. The only sounds breaking the stillness were the flowing mist and the howling wind.
* * *
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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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“…So, the reason the Instructor is not performing well is probably due to unpleasant memories from the past. It’s likely that psychological factors are playing a significant role. It’s a simple analogy, so let’s just overlook the fact that the Instructor is a woman, okay?”
“That’s vulgar.”
Shullifen shook his head. Ronan furrowed his brows. Although the explanation was made more easy to understand, the attitude didn’t sit well with him.
“Seriously, it could happen to you too at any time. It’s a more serious issue than you think.”
“I’ve vaguely noticed that the Instructor hasn’t been able to use her Aura since losing to Zaifa earlier this year. I didn’t expect it to persist until now, though.”
They were discussing Navirose’s condition. Despite seeming fully recovered, it was apparent that something was still amiss. Ronan clicked his tongue.
“It must have been quite a shock. Someone who has never lost a battle in their life, losing twice to the same opponent.”
Ronan threw the twigs he had gathered into the bonfire. With the rhythmic sound of crackling, sparks danced in the air. Tonight marked the third night of their journey, and the campsite was within the nameless woods.
The sky overflowed with a cluster of stars, twinkling with a brilliance that surpassed the usual view from the Institute. Occasionally, a thin meteor streaked across, trailing its tail. The lack of artificial light on the ground made the celestial display even more vivid.
“I feel sorry about the Instructor’s current condition. However, I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“That’s true. Whenever I try to initiate a conversation, she always changes the topic like a ghost…”
Ronan ignited his pipe. Even after the incident, Navirose treated both of them no differently than before.
However, when it came to topics like her Aura or her current condition, she maintained a consistent attitude of thorough avoidance. Ronan raised an eyebrow as he observed the surroundings, breaking the silence.
“By the way, where did that lady go? It has been a while since she left , hasn’t it?”
“She mentioned that she’d take a little breather and come back.”
“…Is that so?”
Ronan exhaled smoke from his pipe. Navirose’s sleeping bag and belongings were still where they were left. After thinking about something for a moment, he stood up.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll bring her back. We should arrive in Parzan the day after tomorrow, then we won’t have time to talk again. I need to find a way to get her to open up, even if it means giving her alcohol. So, stay well.”
Ronan left these words behind and turned away. It was an issue that needed to be addressed, even if it would be uncomfortable. Fortunately, the soil revealed Navirose’s footprints clearly.
‘She went into the forest.’
He followed the footprints. Perhaps due to the naturally high altitude, the forest wasn’t as dense. Unfamiliar night songs echoed through the scattered trees.
‘How far has this woman gone?’
The footprints persisted for a long time. However, no matter how far he followed, Navirose’s figure remained elusive. As irritation began to build, Ronan came to a halt in realization.
‘This smell…’
Ronan sniffed the air. It was a scent he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t unpleasant, mingling subtly with the fragrance of wildflowers. It didn’t take long to realize that it was the smell of water.
‘Is there a spring or something nearby?’
Ronan turned towards the direction of the sound of water. Coincidentally, Navirose’s footprints also led in that direction. How long did he walk for? Ronan followed the trail of Navirose’s footprints, which led him to a beautiful lake surrounded by trees. Overwhelmed by the scenery, Ronan stopped in his tracks.
“…This is killing me.”
Two full moons were hanging in the sky. One was shining high in the sky, and the other cast its gentle glow on the rippling surface of the water. Fireflies flickered in the air, creating a mesmerizing dance. It was a breathtaking sight.
Ronan admired the two moons with his hands in his pockets, soaking in the beauty of nature. The accumulated fatigue from their arduous journey seemed to dissipate. He began to walk slowly along the lakeshore.
‘She must be nearby. She wouldn’t have just passed by here.’
Ronan felt certain that Navirose would be here; after all, she was someone who appreciated romance. Then, somewhere in the distance, the sound of splashing water echoed.
-Splash.
“Huh?”
Ronan stopped in his tracks. The noise was too loud to be a fish. Perhaps some wild animal had come to the water’s edge. Come to think of it, what kind of animals lived around here? Ronan turned his head absentmindedly.
“…Oh my.”
Ronan froze. A woman was bathing not far away. Her naked figure, illuminated between the two moons, resembled a masterpiece crafted from marble.
Moonlight flowing over her bronze skin was exquisite. Wet, ash-gray hair hung down to her waist, clinging to her form.
The curves of her body formed a perfect hourglass shape. The foolish moon and the lake were no longer visible. Ronan, forgetting to conceal himself, stared at her nakedness.
‘I’m glad I was born. If only I were born in the South, I might have been happier.’
He was in the midst of being captivated by the enchanting scene. Swoosh! Suddenly, Navirose’s right arm, concealed beneath the water, revealed itself. In her dripping hand, she tightly held the hilt of her long sword.
“Huh?”
It wasn’t clear why she went into the bath with her sword. Ronan was about to react when Navirose, without turning her head, swung her sword.
Simultaneously creating a wide trajectory towards the direction Ronan stood, a massive blade soared. Swoosh! Cutting through the night air, the crescent moon-shaped attack widened Ronan’s eyes.
“…Shit!”
Regaining his senses belatedly, Ronan swiftly moved his body to the side. The crescent-shaped strike passed over his head, sweeping through the forest.
Baaang! Dozens of trees collapsed simultaneously. Only then did Navirose, who had just turned her head, growled with wide-open eyes.
“Who’s there?”
“Damn it… don’t you usually say something before attacking?”
Ronan, who barely escaped with his life by rolling to the side, lifted his head. Despite her left hand being free, she seemed unbothered about covering herself. Navirose, locking eyes with Ronan, lowered the sword.
“…Ronan?”
“Sorry, Instructor. It wasn’t intentional.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I just followed the sound of water, and…”
Ronan was about to say something when, unexpectedly, his gaze fell on Navirose’s abdomen. From the collarbone to below the navel, there was a long scar.
‘Hmm?’
Of course, the scar wasn’t unusual in itself, but the pattern seemed strange. Five large, evenly spaced gashes formed what looked like a deliberate design, and it didn’t seem like the result of a sword fight.
Most importantly, it didn’t seem to be very old. Ronan, who was well-versed in wounds from his time on the battlefield, could tell that it couldn’t have been more than a few months old. He raised his brows.
“…What’s that scar?”
“Ah.”
“Claw marks? No way, did Zaifa…”
A puzzle was quickly coming together in Ronan’s mind. Navirose, as if suddenly feeling embarrassed, raised her left hand to cover the wound. More precisely, the scar. Ronan, forgetting the fact that she was undressed, approached the lakeside slowly.
“…Caught you.”
A self-deprecating smile suddenly appeared on Navirose’s lips. With a sigh that seemed to signify resignation, she swept her hair back.
“Wait there. I’ll be right back.”
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HEL SCANS
[Translator – Peptobismol]
[Proofreader – Demon God]
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