Editing Rakuin no Monshou:Volume6 Chapter6 (section)

=== Part 3 ===

Reizus, the sorcerer who was now called Garda and who was feared throughout the west, left Zer Illias at almost that exact same time.

Reports reached his ears almost simultaneously that in Taúlia, Raswan Bazgan had failed to seize control of the city and that in Kadyne, the sorcerer he had despatched had been felled.

Rather than his ears, it was more accurate to say that he felt it with his body. Garda had selected several among his subordinate sorcerers who had a wavelength similar to his and had deployed them throughout the west. The ancient magic that he had resurrected allowed them to share their five senses over long distances as long as they formed an ether “passageway”. Their eyes were Garda’s eyes, their ears were Garda’s ears and, in a manner of speaking, each of them was Garda. That was how he had become such a threat to the west such a short time.

Because of the missteps in Taúlia and Kadyne, he had of course not been able to make any large-scale preparations in Zer Illias. However, piloting a large airship, he calmly pressed on through the pastures and there was no hint of impatience in his expression.

He flew the distance to Eimen in just half a day. Both the speed and the cruising range were strange/unusual. It appeared that Garda was more or less constantly releasing ether from within himself.

At the same time as he arrived in Eimen, an airship carrying a different sorcerer and coming from the south also landed. This sorcerer brought with him a woman who was in a swoon and, upon giving her into the custody of a comrade, he bowed his head as soon as he was in Garda’s presence.

“My deepest apologies.”

“It’s fine. Your failure is my failure. But don’t fret. It’s simply the case that as we were not able to take Taúlia, we shall have to annihilate them here. And you were able to safely bring the key for that.”

“Aye.”

“Die in peace. Garda's magic arts have crossed the span of two hundred years and revived.”

As he spoke, Garda approached the kneeling sorcerer. As he told him to “die”, it looked like Garda himself was going to perform the deed, but he simply passed by him without doing anything. Nonetheless, the sorcerer collapsed like rags.

The face that jutted out from under the hood was completely devoid of vitality. There were probably very few people who, at a glance, would be able to tell that he was the very same sorcerer who had stood as close as a shadow to Raswan Bazgan in Taúlia. The flesh had entirely fallen in and it was as though his skin were stretched directly across his skull. Only the sorcerers, Garda first and foremost, knew that this was the price to pay for having covered so great a distance as the one between Taúlia and Eimen at far faster a speed than a horse galloping without rest could ever have done.

The sorcerer had something like a smile on his thin lips and remained unmoving where he had fallen. Without paying it any heed, Garda went down the stairs.

Serving as Eimen’s temple to the Dragon Gods, the building he was in was a tall tower. The section above ground was open to ordinary worshippers but none except those of the ecclesiastical class were allowed in the cellars.

A damp wind wafted in the underground. As though it had been burrowed through a single, gigantic rock, there was not a joint to be seen in the walls on either side. Proceeding deeper within, his steps not making any sound, Garda stopped when it opened into a circular room.

When he snapped his fingers, flames appeared at points along the curved wall. The faint light they gave illuminated the person standing in the centre of the hall.

Esmena Bazgan.

“At long last I was able to meet you, princess of the Bazgan House,” Garda smiled.

There was no answer. Esmena stood there vacantly, like one who was dreaming while awake. Faced with the fearsome threat to the west, she didn’t wail, or break down or display anger.

It was not only Esmena. Under the burning flames along the circular wall, noblewomen who had been kidnapped from many of the countries of Tauran were lined up. Among them was Lima Khadein. All were like Esmena: while their hollow gaze wandered around, they simply tottered and swayed like flowers in the wind, neither saying a word nor trying to escape from there.

“It is most fortunate to be able to receive the sovereign’s seal of the Magic Dynasty that I had been searching for. Though I don’t intend to use it to formally declare myself king of the western lands.” The war fan used by Ax Bazgan hung at Garda’s waist. Needless to say, Esmena was holding it in her hands when she was taken from Taúlia. “Originally, I wanted to take my time winning your ether but… unfortunately, just for now, I can’t afford to do it that way.”

Garda drew up to Esmena and abruptly placed his palm before her eyes. As it cast a shadow over her pale face, with a start, Esmena’s slender shoulders started to shake. She slowly blinked a few times. As though to match that pace, Garda spoke while wriggling his palm at a slight angle.

“I shall take the liberty to look into your heart and memories. As you are now, what is that occupies your heart? Or in other words, what is the most important thing that makes the current you yourself? Come, there is nothing to be afraid of. Before long, we will be one of body and mind.”

The intervals between Esmena’s blinking widened. Perhaps it was because of the shadows cast by the flickering flames, but the shape of the hand before Esmena’s beautiful face seemed to change shape. Was it a dragon or was it a fiend? Either way, it was eerie.

After some time had passed, Garda’s dry lips formed into an ominous smile.

“Ho. So the one you love fell victim to an evil scheme and died?”

As soon as Garda spoke, Esmena’s body was seen to tremble. For a moment, a woeful expression flashed through her gaze that had been wandering vacantly and her eyes glistened. The flames flickered ever more furiously. The tears that reflected them were like red drops of light as they trickled and fell.

“I am the greatest sorcerer in the west, no, in the world. My name is Garda, he who has completely lined the western wilderness with skulls and dyed innumerable lakes the colour of blood. Everywhere where there are the stone cities of civilisation, the streets will be filled with voices extolling my name, towers will rise like my own fingers to grasp the heavens, and every temple will be converted into vessels of sorcery for me to manipulate ether. Do you understand it, Princess? My might, my terror, my power? If I will it, even the dead can revive from within the grave. Yes, their very aspect unchanged from when they were alive. And for that, Princess, none other than your cooperation is needed.”

What were the expressions that crossed Esmena’s face in one after another? Was it joy or hope, turmoil or despair? They could not be distinguished within the dark shadows, but Garda’s smile unmistakably deepened.

“Ah, I can feel it. The strong force of the ether. As expected of the Bazgan House. You have inherited excellent blood. If it’s with this…”

Plunged in thought, shivering as he gazed intently at Esmena, Garda did not notice.

Despite the strict orders that no one was to be allowed in the tower’s underground, a single man had crept in.

The man’s name was Moldorf, the Red Dragon of Kadyne.

Carrying a spear in one hand, he approached the circular chamber.




“Go!”

At Nilgif’s shout, the entire three thousand troops launched themselves out of Eimen and rushed to attack the army of the western alliance led by Ax. In terms of numbers, their opponents surpassed them roughly twice over. But the enemy had fallen into a trap. Setting aside the human lives lost to the arrows, the dragons and horses that had been wounded were reacting violently, making it impossible for Ax set up battle formations.

This assault, which was akin to a surprise attack, had taken their combined efforts to carry out and for all that it was Ax, he would not be able to overturn the situation.

Yet there was no fiery heat boiling within the depths of Nilgif’s broad chest. Rather, it felt as if the blood flowing to his limbs had grown cold and solidified.

Yesterday, when he had only just arrived in Eimen, Nilgif had received horrifying news. A number of units that were posted as look-outs in the mountains had sighted black smoke rising from the direction of Kadyne. It had been confirmed that an air carrier from Garda’s army had left Eimen a few hours before that. There was only one possible inference.

Using the air carrier, Garda had burned the troops of the western alliance to ashes. Along with Kadyne. Along with its many inhabitants who had been in the city.

Nilgif had turned to hurriedly jump on horseback. There might still be survivors. They had to go help them at once.

But his foot had missed the stirrup and he had fallen where he was. After that, he wasn’t able to stand back up. The ground was warped and the sky was broken. It was as though a hole that would never be filled no matter how many years passed had opened in Nilgif’s heart, and he barely had any strength left to cling to the edge of that pit.

And after that, heedless of the fact that his men could see him, his large back had shaken and he had wept bitterly. 

''Let’s die'', he had thought. ''What is left when I’m already living in disgrace? I endured such humiliation simply to protect the people of Kadyne. But now Kadyne, my home, has vanished in flames''.

However… Like venomous serpents lifting their sickle-shaped heads, dark emotions rose in Nilgif’s breast. Stirred to movement by those emotions, he was finally able to make his large frame crawl up from the hole in his heart.

''But Garda, only after I’ve destroyed you. Until I’ve torn your fucking body to shreds, until I’ve taken your head and crushed your neck with my own teeth, I won’t give up my life. Not to anyone!''

His older brother Moldorf had rushed there and found Nilgif in tears, past caring about consequences and ready to turn even on his brother. He seized him by both shoulders.

“Look,” despite the strength exerted to do so, the older brother’s expression was strangely serene as he spoke. “There are people being held in Zer Ilias, your family included, and we can’t leave them to die. Kadyne has not disappeared entirely. There are people who have survived even now, and now it is through them that Kadyne still exists, that our birthplace still exists.”

“But, but, Brother…”

“But nothing. I am going to take this whole army and face Ax. You are going to take the best and go to Zer Illias. Now that the soldiers have all left, Zer Illias should be empty. Listen, we’ll give our all in this fight. If we win, Garda will grow careless. If we lose, he’ll make preparations for his next move. Either way, it will create an opening. And you will destroy Garda with your own hands.”

Nilgif suddenly raised his head. His brother recognised his grim determination.

“No, that won’t do, Brother.” His tears fell as he shook his head. “I won’t do. I’m impatient and not suited for infiltration. Garda would certainly notice. If I fail, Kadyne’s people will be annihilated. Brother, you go.”

“Nilgif…”

“It’s alright. I’m still the man known as the Blue Dragon, Nilgif. No matter what kind of dishonour it brings, I will fight with all my might.”

The brothers stared closely at each other. After a moment, Moldorf assented.

“Take Ax’s head, Nilgif. The sorcerers will become suspicious unless you maintain that level of determination and intent. Even if you have to lose your men for nothing.”

“I understand.”

Nilgif recalled that conversation as he charged. He was crying already. Each tear he shed was cold.

He was in the van, leading the cavalry unit, the pride of Kadyne. Riding small dragons, Fugrum’s dragoons maintained a close formation as they charged in the centre. In breastplates and helmets decorated with plumes, Lakekish’s tall and tenacious infantrymen dashed forward from either side.

And further out to both sides, surrounding the alliance’s troops as swiftly as a gale, was Eimen’s chariot squadrons. Pulling the chariots on which several archers rode were not horses but two Mantos dragons, which among the medium-sized breeds were particularly noted for their manoeuvrability. As though they were wheels, they whirred the six legs that grew from their elongated torsos and plunged forward. Other cavalry troops followed behind the chariot squadrons and, spread out in a fan shape, they positioned themselves to cut off the allied troops’ path of retreat.

In terms of vigour, Nilgif was truly like a dragon itself as he moved through the centre and tore through Ax’s large army as though it were made of paper.

“Yield!” He shouted as he brandished his spear, sending enemy heads flying. “Yield, yield!”

Who it was he was grieving for, he himself didn’t know. Where he passed, blood swirled overhead.

With no chance to take up battle formation, the allied troops had started to retreat in the face of the enemy’s onslaught. Even the commander-in-chief Ax Bazgan had gotten dragged into close combat.

Pulling hard on his reins as he destroyed an enemy spear, Ax shouted to the messenger unit.

“Bring out the air carriers. The enemy won’t have a rear guard. Get right behind them!”

His opponents’ blood spewed onto his face as he yelled. Ax also chose several of the best from his own bodyguards and had them accompany the messengers. Without giving him time to make sure that they had galloped away, enemies rushed in one after another. He narrowly avoided taking a sword to the face from a soldier whose belligerence appeared to mark him as being from a mountain tribe.

“Do you act knowing that I am Ax Bazgan, the master of Tauran? Fool.”

“It’s Ax. I’ll have his head!”

The distance between him and the enemy had already closed. Ax hurled aside his spear and drew the sword at his waist. No doubt excited upon hearing the enemy commander’s name, the soldier once again raised his sword overhead in a wide, sweeping movement. Ax pierced him through the throat.

While he slaughtered a further three opponents, the shadows of the air carriers under his command appeared in the sky. Like that, they would carry out the plan to land reinforcements behind the enemy. This was the turning point to determine victory or defeat and Ax called out,
[[Image:Rakuin no Monshou v06 266.jpg|thumb]]
“Hold fast, my braves. Against Ax, whatever tricks the enemies use are useless, useless, useless. Come, strike at the enemy from in front and behind. If we just break through now, victory is ours!”

Shouts from the throng of friends and foes mingled and amidst the turmoil, even Ax, the commander-in-chief, could no longer tell whether it was the voice of his allies taking heart or of his enemies jeering.

In any case, since he was the one who had yelled out, Ax too was frantically holding his ground. How many times did he raise his sword high, how many opponents did he stab, how many enemies did he unseat from their horses? His own shoulders and arms were covered in shallow wounds. His face that had been overflowing with energy was starting to show traces of fatigue.

With eyes that were growing hazy, Ax looked up towards the sky. At long last, the air carriers had flown clear over the enemies and were about to get behind them.

But as he stared upwards, the ships started to behave strangely. Like leaves tossed about in a storm, they lurched left and right then immediately after, the ether emissions from their engines stopped and with their prows forward, they hurtled towards the ground.

“Fools.”

Of course, there was no way for Ax to hear that. In the vaults beneath Eimen’s tower, Garda roared with laughter. As the sorcerer who had summoned the illusions and the sandstorm, he had taken control of all of the ether in this territory.

As he watched the explosion from afar, Ax ground his teeth until he bled. The second ship was still just managing to continue cruising but its altitude was already low. So low it felt like he could touch it if he just reached up a hand from horseback. It was obvious that at this rate, it would share the same fate as the other ship.

''We should retreat''.

If they lost most of their men here, there would be no way afterwards to stop Garda’s invasion. A sharp pain pierced Ax Bazgan’s shoulder. Even as he was struck by the enemy’s blow, he thrust his sword at his opponent’s neck. The helmet came off, revealing the dead man’s face. It was a young man.

“Bastards!” Ax screamed at no one.



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