roccoschili Chapter 180 : Nabrash (4)
Chapter 180 : Nabrash (4)
Chapter 180: Nabrash (4)
The deeper they went into the cave, the more the ores embedded in the ceiling and walls illuminated all directions.
At the same time, the concentration of demonic energy grew so thick that they had to pay attention to their breathing.
“Phew. Phew.”
His breathing grew ragged, as if he had climbed to a high ground where the oxygen was thin.
They had not walked far, yet with every step he took, he could feel the change.
What awaited them at the end of the not-so-long cave was an empty space with no one inside.
“Ugh, what is that smell.”
Aelin wrinkled her nose and looked around.
It was sticky, as if it had been plastered over with layers of mud.
“It’s the smell of rotting corpses.”
“What?”
“It looks like a lot of people died here.”
A smell one could never forget once experienced.
The scent of death rang alarm bells, warning of danger.
“I don’t see any bodies though…….”
“Aelin, step back.”
Robin pulled Aelin away as she examined the wall.
Zzzzt.
The wall split apart like a caterpillar tearing through its cocoon to hatch.
The stench of rot, the metallic tang of blood, and the foul reek of filthy water all seeped out from the crack.
It was so dreadful that breathing itself became difficult.
Robin took out a bundle of herbs from his pocket and handed half of it to Aelin.
“Keep chewing it. It’ll be a bit better.”
He held the herbs between his teeth and chewed them roughly before drawing his sword.
What emerged from the wall was a young man.
In contrast to the stench, he was clean and handsome.
“Hmm? Who are you two.”
The man asked, but Robin and Aelin remained silent.
Judging by his familiar attitude and confidence, he was clearly the owner of this place.
Naturally, they had assumed he would be a member of the Demon Tribe, but there were no horns in sight.
“You should be the one answering that.”
“I am called Zakras.”
Though he appeared young enough to be in his twenties at a glance, his tone carried the natural condescension of someone who had lived a long life.
Once Zakras finished his name-only introduction, he looked at them as if it were now their turn.
“We came to eliminate the Demon Tribe.”
“Oh?”
“So I’ll ask you. Are you a Demon Tribe Worshipper?”
“A worshipper… There were such humans, yes.”
“Answer properly.”
Zakras smiled faintly and bent at the waist.
He reached into the sludge—so revolting that even its smell was nauseating—and scooped up a handful.
“I am not a Demon Tribe Worshipper.”
“Why are you holding trash.”
“Trash?”
What Zakras did next was shocking.
He opened his mouth wide and bit into the lump of mud in his hand.
And he did not stop there—one bite, two bites, three…….
He devoured the filthy sludge clenched in his fist entirely.
“It tastes better than it looks. Would you like to try.”
“Crazy…….”
Calling it mud was generous; in truth, there was no telling what it was made of.
Robin was certain there was a high probability that fragments of corpses were mixed within it.
Aelin could not suppress her curiosity and asked,
“What did you just eat.”
“A delicacy mixed only with the most delicious of human emotions.”
“You eat emotions?”
“Sadness, depression, despair, frustration, misfortune, resignation. Emotions engraved just before death become even more exquisite when properly aged.”
Despite his appearance, he was not a sane man.
It was hard to believe his claim that he was not a Demon Tribe Worshipper.
Even if he truly was not, he was undoubtedly an unhinged madman.
Still, no matter how unpleasant he was, they could not attack someone who had not shown hostility.
Robin decided to continue the conversation for as long as possible and opened his mouth.
“If you’re neither Demon Tribe nor a Demon Tribe Worshipper, then what are you doing here?”
“You have quite the curious expression. Wondering where this place is, who I am, whether there are dangers—straining for even the smallest clue, aren’t you?”
“I have no intention of harming a human who is not hostile. Tell us what you know and leave this place immediately.”
Despite the somewhat overbearing tone, Zakras showed no sign of displeasure.
Rather, the corners of his eyes curved as if he found it amusing.
“You said you came to eliminate the Demon Tribe. May I ask why?”
“What kind of obvious question is that. Do I need to explain it?”
“You must be bound by a deeply bitter fate. How naive.”
“That’s enough. Just leave already…….”
“Then who decided that the Demon Tribe must not hunt humans?”
Zakras spouted nonsense.
Robin judged that further conversation would be futile.
He was about to release a trace of killing intent to intimidate him when the wall behind Zakras split open with a crack.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat accelerated and his pupils dilated.
An overwhelming wave of demonic energy surged forward like a tide.
Seeing Zakras smiling, he realized it.
The man had said he was not a Demon Tribe Worshipper.
But he had never said he was not Demon Tribe.
They had assumed he was human simply because he had no visible horns.
They were wrong.
No human could possibly release such an immense amount of demonic energy.
Even if that were somehow possible, the fact that he was dangerous remained unchanged.
“Humans always think in self-centered ways. The Demon Tribe is evil, without exception. Yet when asked why, there is no clear reason.”
“I suspected as much—you’re Demon Tribe.”
“That’s right. I am Demon Tribe. But does that alone give us a reason to fight?”
Strangely, Zakras did not attack immediately.
Though he did not withdraw his demonic energy, he merely observed them, as if studying them.
“Just about thirty years ago. Are you aware of the incident when humans overturned the Demon Realm?”
“There’s no one who doesn’t know about the Human–Demon War.”
“Indeed. The Demon Tribe who participated in that war were shocked by their strength. It was power that surpassed the limits of life itself, whether human or Demon Tribe.”
Robin could guess whom Zakras was referring to.
If what Brandok had told him was true, it would be the Mercenary King Harold and his companions.
“Although the war ended, I still cannot forget that time. So I searched.”
“Searched for what.”
“For the Remnants of the Calamity.”
Sssk. Ssswk.
When Zakras brushed the wall, a smooth surface was revealed.
Seeing the writing carved into the wall, Aelin was certain her memory had not been mistaken.
There were lines written in Elven.
“How could they be so strong without even using magic. I was so curious I felt I would go mad, and then I heard of a place that preserved the secret. The Remnants of the Calamity.”
Zakras spread both arms and looked from side to side, wearing a moved expression.
“The other Demon Tribe dismissed me as a fool, but I uncovered the secret. The power you use—Fighting Spirit.”
Could it be that Demon Tribe could even use Fighting Spirit.
Robin swallowed his tension, unsure of the extent of Zakras’s abilities, but the answer that followed defied his expectations.
“So I decided to become human. In order to obtain that perfect Fighting Spirit!”
“Is that why you have no horns.”
“Correct. With my own hands, I tore out my pride.”
Having fought Demon Tribe several times, Robin knew how much they cherished their horns.
Yet he had torn them out himself.
A chill ran down his spine at the realization that this was no ordinary being.
“To obtain Fighting Spirit, I had to study humans. But unfortunately, the materials here alone were not enough to master it.”
Aelin had said this place was a memorial hall.
The Elven script carved into the wall must have been part of the achievements commemorating Elicia’s companions.
It was absurd to think that one could master Fighting Spirit with that alone.
“What is the difference between humans and Demon Tribe. What does it mean to be human. How do human emotions become the driving force of strength. I dissected several humans and reached a conclusion.”
“Dissected?”
“That it is precisely deficiency that makes humans strong.”
Among Zakras’s ramblings, the word dissected grated on Robin’s ears.
“What do you mean by dissected.”
“I mean exactly that. I divided them piece by piece. Separated upper body and lower body, split open skulls to study their brains.”
“You lunatic.”
Zakras spoke proudly, as if unaware of having done anything wrong.
That only made him all the more grotesque.
Tearing out his own horns. Dissecting humans.
He went on at length about things utterly incomprehensible.
“Fuuuu…….”
“Robin, are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Setting aside the threatening demonic energy and the insane nonsense, Robin asked himself a simple question.
Is Zakras an enemy?
Yes.
Even if the Uncharted Area was a lawless land, they could not leave such a being unchecked.
“Aelin.”
“Yeah. Tell me.”
“We have to kill him.”
“I agree.”
Gripping his sword firmly, Robin leveled it at Zakras.
Once he steeled his resolve, intangible Fighting Spirit coiled around the blade.
“Ohh, you can manifest Fighting Spirit. Beautiful.”
“If you keep quiet, I’ll end it quickly.”
“End it quickly, you say. This is fate as well—why not talk a little longer.”
Without another word, Robin charged at Zakras.
When Zakras opened his palm, the surrounding sludge gathered together.
The sticky mass of mud transformed into the shape of a sword, becoming a single longsword.
Clang!
When Robin and Zakras collided, a clear metallic ring echoed out.
Before a blade imbued with Fighting Spirit, ordinary swords usually cracked or shattered.
Yet the sword Zakras had created endured without so much as a scratch.
“How is it, the Fighting Spirit I learned.”
“Wasn’t that magic.”
“Creating the sword was a kind of magic. But the power wrapped around the blade is indeed Fighting Spirit.”
Seeing it up close, Robin had to agree with that much.
He truly was using Fighting Spirit.
But battle was not decided by Fighting Spirit alone.
When they tested strength against each other, Robin’s raw power proved superior.
Fwhoosh!
The arrow Aelin fired aimed at Zakras, but he was a step faster.
He shoved aside Robin’s blade in an instant and shifted his position.
Unlike his lighthearted attitude, Zakras acted with careful consideration of the risks.
“Why do humans hasten their own deaths.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“If you insist on this, I have no choice. Regrettably, I’ll have to dissect you both.”
Despite speaking as though he would win easily, Zakras’s swordsmanship was plainly visible to Robin.
Robin did not know when he had learned Fighting Spirit, but he must have relied on magic for most of his life.
Slash.
Fresh blood flowed from Zakras’s calf.
Once Robin had sufficiently gauged him, he began shaving him down bit by bit.
Had the range of magic he could use diminished in exchange for mastering Fighting Spirit?
Though Zakras was gradually being pushed back, he did not reveal any trump card that could turn the situation around.
Fwhoosh!
At the perfect moment, Aelin’s arrow flew in and embedded itself in his left arm.
With one arm rendered useless, the tide of battle tipped instantly.
Robin’s sword pierced his heart, and Zakras coughed up blood as he laughed.
“You’re laughing?”
“Heh heh heh heh…….”
He no longer attacked.
Instead, he tightly grabbed Robin’s arm and raised his eyes wide.
“Let’s meet again.”
Dangerous.
Robin shook him off and quickly put distance between them, but his instinct proved correct.
Black blood gushed from the hole in his upper arm.
Boom!
Just before his breath ceased, Zakras’s body exploded.
Robin had thrown himself flat an instant before the blast, avoiding fatal injury, but his skin stung as if splashed with acid.
“Robin!”
Aelin ran over and pulled out a potion.
She opened the cap and was about to pour it when—
“Wait.”
“Your arm……!”
“Doesn’t it feel like it ended too easily?”
Robin tore off the sleeve of his shirt and roughly wiped the wound.
Zakras’s final words felt unsettling.
Zzzzt.
As expected, the wall from which he had emerged split open once more.
From the torn gap stepped out a young man.
Robin called out his name.
“Zakras.”
“You’re quite perceptive. Most people never understand what happened.”
The man who emerged this time was also Zakras.
Then who was the one that had just died?
Naturally, the question arose, but what mattered was eliminating the Demon Tribe before them.
What Robin had to do was clear.
He raised his sword and slashed at him.
“I suppose I shouldn’t kill you this time.”
“So you’ve finally decided to talk.”
“No. I’m going to interrogate you.”
The questions could be asked after capturing Zakras.
This time, he would gather more information.
Even if he had to dissect him the way he liked.