〈 282nd Chapter 〉 Hero Galahal (1)
*
The air trembles.
Magic is scattered all around. Mana writhes in strange forms. The stench of blood mixes beasts and humans. The scent of death pierces the nose. The woman who betrayed the god reeked of death.
“I’ll save you soon.”
Billowing white hair.
Eyes devoid of light, a dull green.
The once Saintess, the apostate, smiles.
Her voice echoed through the air. Feeling suffocated, Raniel bit down hard. Instinctively, Raniel realized.
The apostate is in her complete state.
There are no constraints binding her body. The trembling air and the oppressive force weighing down the surroundings are on a different level from the night in the city.
Tick, tick.
The space, unable to withstand her existence, begins to tear apart. That’s what catastrophe is. Just by existing in that place, they disrupt the very principles of the area.
Creak.
Gritting her teeth, Raniel took a step forward.
She swung her clenched fist towards the apostate. The circuit engraved on the back of her hand ignited, flickering with a blue light.
Yet, that fist does not reach the apostate.
Thud!
A path swallowed by filth.
Raniel’s fist does not move beyond the opaque barrier blocking the passage. The spell she conjured also gets scattered upon impact with the barrier.
“It’s useless.”
The apostate laughs from beyond the barrier.
“You know, right? This is the Trial of the Stars.”
The Trial of the Stars.
The trial permitted only to heroes who bear the stars.
“There’s no way an unblessed human can interfere. Give up, child.”
Those without stars cannot interfere with the space beyond the passage. That is the absolute rule of the trial.
The apostate turns her back to Raniel and begins to walk away, as Chloe, caught by her, extends a hand towards Raniel, but the hand never reaches her.
Squish.
With her lips sealed tight, Raniel glared at the back of the apostate. Blood vessels pop in her eyes. Her nails dig into her clenched fist, oozing blood.
Eventually, the filth engulfing the passage begins to bubble.
The gate to the Trial of the Stars is closing. Raniel spreads her hand to grasp the framework forming the passage. Creak! A loud noise erupts from her fingers.
Vroom.
A massive amount of mana burns, warping space around Raniel’s fingers. The closing passage collides with the distorted space, refusing to shrink further.
But that’s as far as it goes.
Holding on to the passage does not allow Raniel to move beyond it. Because she is not blessed by the stars, she cannot interfere with the space on the other side.
The spell does not reach.
This damn trial rejects her body.
At this moment, there is only one way forward.
A method for a human not chosen by the stars to embrace the stars.
A way to gain power not allowed to her.
Raniel knows that method.
But…
Does that mean she can defeat the apostate?
Can she take down the apostate alone? Even if she does, what happens to her, who will have lost the space she is holding onto, and has no way back?
There are too many uncertain factors.
A moment’s contemplation, a moment’s hesitation.
But it doesn’t last long. She must act. Steeling her resolve, Raniel stretches out her remaining hand.
“Balance.”
A platinum-colored scale rises.
Raniel’s last chance appears before her.
Just as she reaches towards it…
Snap!
Someone grabs Raniel’s wrist.
*
“…Galahal?”
Raniel glared at Galahal, who held her wrist.
“Let go.”
Raniel shouted anxiously, but Galahal merely shook his head.
“I will go.”
He said quietly.
Raniel bit her lips tightly.
“…You can’t.”
Still looking down, Raniel continued.
“If you go, you will die.”
Unlike her, who has a slim chance of surviving, if Galahal goes in there, he will definitely die the moment he enters. It’s not just because he has little lifespan left.
It’s a cruel truth she must convey at this moment.
“You’re not enough.”
Not enough.
Galahal’s power is far too insufficient.
Seeing Raniel say that, Galahal nodded as if he already knew that.
Still, Galahal does not let go of Raniel’s wrist.
“Didn’t you hear me? You’ll die if you go?”
“Perhaps.”
“That’s not a perhaps. You’ll definitely die if you go. So, let go of me already, Galahal.”
Galahal smiled bitterly.
“Raniel.”
Raniel lifted her head.
As she locked eyes with Galahal, she suddenly realized no matter what she said, it wouldn’t reach the Galahal before her.
“I am a hero.”
Those eyes have already made a decision.
“A hero cannot turn their back on those in need.”
Raniel’s mind swirled with countless words and phrases that repeatedly came and went.
Didn’t he already fulfill his dream?
Didn’t he say he wanted to write his story?
Wasn’t he afraid of death?
Countless phrases came to mind, but all were blocked by the next words that Galahal spoke.
“I want to remain a hero until the end.”
Raniel dropped her arms.
The scales vanished, and only then did Galahal release her wrist. He stood before the passage as if to take her place.
Clutching the holy spear, he readied himself.
Looking at him, reminiscent of a hero from a fairy tale, Raniel asked Galahal.
“Are you going to die?”
“No.”
Galahal smiled.
“I’m going to save.”
2.
The apostate is utterly delighted at this moment.
Because she can taint the child chosen by the stars, because she might finally reencounter Cardi, whom she longed to meet again, and have her take revenge on the stars.
The mere thought of all this brings a smile to her face.
With a smile, the apostate opened her mouth.
“You won’t understand, poor child.”
The apostate whispers to Chloe.
“What the stars did to you and me.”
Chloe, trembling with fear, unable to meet her gaze, listens as the apostate continues.
“Neither you nor I, nor the first Guide, can understand the value of the souls we were born with…”
She learned that truth only after betraying the stars.
The overwhelming sense of betrayal the apostate felt faced with the truth led to a faith in darkness. The first Saint no longer serves the stars.
“Do not believe in a false god, a decrepit god lifted by human hands in the distant past. Do not trust, child. You were betrayed by faith.”
This child before her knows nothing.
Unbeknownst to her, she will meet her end. The fact is both pitiful and delightful. Ignorance might be the greatest happiness there is.
The apostate walks through the vast space.
This white expanse stretches beyond the horizon, a place where she once faced the trial of the god. The god tested her, and by passing the test, Gleria proved her worth to the god.
Now, centuries later, the time for proof has come again. To demonstrate her righteousness, the apostate walks through the space.
‘Not much longer.’
If she can seize this child’s body, she will be freed from all constraints. She will reunite with the first Ashen one she longed for.
“Wait for me, Armiel.”
Smiling, the apostate continues to walk.
After a few steps, the apostate silently turned back.
She felt a presence.
Someone else had stepped into the space.
Though the intruder was not yet visible, she could predict who it might be.
“Ashen.”
A pitiful child who couldn’t be born bearing the stars but reaches toward them. A human shining brightly by burning their lifespan. Is it again trying to show that shimmering glow to her?
Immersed in joy, the apostate gazes at the intruder.
And the moment she verifies the identity of the intruder, the apostate’s gaze turns icy. The being she hoped for isn’t there.
“…Who are you?”
A human she does not remember.
She may have met them at some point, but as an ordinary figure that could be found anywhere, she completely forgot them.
“Galahal.”
A mere human speaks.
“I am a hero.”
3.
Galahal walks.
His steps are lighter than ever. The holy spear that always felt heavy now feels weightless. Inside that lightness, Galahal keeps walking.
“…”
The apostate watches him with a chilling gaze. Contrary to her expectations, the one who appeared isn’t the Ashen. It is an utterly ordinary human.
Even if he is the hero chosen by the stars… the apostate finds little interest in that fact.
Having watched countless heroes over the past few centuries, all kneeling before her. To her, heroes are merely cursed humans denied by the stars. Powerless without the stars.
There is only one hero she acknowledges.
Ganikalt van Galatrick.
Knowing a hero who still shone brilliantly without the stars, other heroes simply don’t satisfy the apostate. With a wave of her hand, she dismisses them as unworthy.
The air tears apart, and countless beasts emerge.
Tides of beasts cover Galahal, swallowing him whole. As they engulf him, the apostate intends to turn her back.
Flash!
Light flares within the black waves.
With a flash, the beasts are cast off. Stepping atop the corpses of the beasts, Galahal continues walking forward. Blood flows from his body.
From the torn space, more beasts pour forth. The numbers only increase. Yet, Galahal does not stop walking and keeps moving forward.
Step by step, again and again.
Though he collapses, is pushed back, and bleeds, Galahal walks. At some moment, the apostate halts her own steps, watching Galahal.
“…”
Her gaze sharpens.
There stands Galahal, being bitten by beasts and thrown to the ground by the harvester of corpses. He’s thrown multiple times.
Yet, he stands up again and again.
Bleeding, he rises and walks toward her. As the Carapace Dragon tries to emerge from the torn space, the apostate raises her hand to block it.
“Child.”
The apostate spoke.
“What do you hope to achieve by continuing to stand up?”
Curiosity lingers in her eyes.
“You cannot reach me. You know you cannot, don’t you? Then why do you continue to rise? Knowing the impossible, why?”
Galahal does not answer.
With each step forward, he provides the answer.
“Just sending out small fry, and you’re already battered. Don’t strive to endure what you cannot.”
The torn space was only widening.
Within the space writhes her elite army, a force even superhuman beings find straining. Five Carapace Dragons tear through the space and appear.
“Then you will die.”
The five Carapace Dragons encircled the apostate.
“Will you continue to come?”
Galahal walks silently.
At that sight, a smile spreads across the apostate’s lips.
A broken world.
A land devastated by an old god.
In such a world, standing firm and struggling in the face of impending death is so beautiful. The once saintess finds that beauty irresistible.
“Child.”
The apostate whispered softly.
“Is it really necessary to go this far?”
Galahal halted.
His exhaled breath was ragged. His bitten ankle throbbed. The four-cornered cloak he once took pride in was shredded by beasts, no longer resembling its original form.
It’s crumbling.
The starshine rising around Galahal envelops his body, yet the diminished starshine cannot heal the remaining wounds. Pointing at it, the apostate bursts into laughter.
“Starshine, detestable starshine.”
The woman who was betrayed by the stars long ago scoffs.
“Child, you were not blessed. In fact, quite the opposite. You are cursed by the stars.”
Laughter. Mockery. And sympathy.
“That is a curse. A truly dreadful curse.”
“This is a curse. We are mere pawns of the stars.”
Words once whispered by a comrade echo in Galahal’s mind.
Having been chosen by the stars, they were forced into duty, and because they were chosen by the stars, they had to endure this pain.
There is truth in those words.
Because he lived as a hero, he witnessed countless deaths. He felt the pain of losing comrades. He tasted numerous losses and his mind decayed in the grim battlefields.
It was undeniably a tough life.
“Because you were chosen by the stars, you were forced into this life. The end will not be easier. You will die without accomplishing a thing.”
It was a tough life, yet
“Then, if this isn’t a curse…”
That itself holds significance, doesn’t it?
Thud.
Galahal drove the spear into the ground.
The sound of the spear striking the earth drowned out the apostate’s voice. Leaning on the spear, Galahal stood straight. He lifted his head, which he had been bowing for some time.
“Not even once.”
Galahal said.
“I have never thought of this power given to me by the stars as a curse.”
This is a blessing.
“Because of the blessing of the stars.”
So heavy.
This blessing meant he could save many people.
He could become a hero.
He fulfilled the dream he had long revered.
“If this isn’t a blessing, then what is it?”
Galahal smiled.
Even in the midst of bloodshed, he laughs.
More lightly, and with more ease than ever.
“…You.”
The apostate falters at that laugh.
“Are you out of your mind?”
She feels no desire to continue asking questions.
Galahal exhaled sharply. Then, he gripped the spear tightly. The spear glowed brilliantly with a platinum hue.
Galahal instinctively knows.
This is his final stage.
A place in which to burn down the life he has left.
Resolutely, Galahal shouted into the air.
“O Star.”
The scales arose before Galahal.
“I offer.”
To the star questioning for a price, Galahal cried out.
“All of me.”
As the final deal is struck, the scales shatter.
The star answers the human’s wish.
Starlight floods in.
*
