Chapter 42
Deioden’s eyes widened in surprise.
Crayon occasionally revealed himself, but never this clearly before.
Until now, he had always appeared faint—like a faded photograph—but now he perfectly reproduced the way he had looked in life.
“Is it because you absorbed Akaruk’s sword?”
—That’s right. But…
“But?”
—My durability has greatly decreased.
“Because you overexerted yourself?”
—More than that… you should think of it as the time given to me is nearly over. I forcibly implanted my soul into the sword, going against the laws of nature.
“…I see.”
—My friend. We don’t have much time left. It’s time we finally see this through to the end.
“I know.”
Deioden nodded.
Crayon wasn’t the only one running out of time.
He too could feel that his end was approaching.
He was over a hundred and thirty years old.
If he had been an ordinary human, he would have long since returned to dust.
He had only survived this long because he was an awakened—but in truth, his body was already riddled with damage.
Countless battles had made him stronger, but at the same time, they had steadily accumulated damage within him.
Even so, Deioden had never once regretted his life.
He had lived solely for revenge—and had walked a path worthy of that purpose.
Because of it, he had become strong enough to prepare for a final battle against a dragon.
“Hieltun isn’t far. It’s possible the bastard is watching us even now.”
—A cunning creature… that’s entirely possible.
“We need to move before it finishes preparing.”
—Speed is everything.
“Exactly.”
—Then the end is truly near.
As Crayon spoke of the “end,” his gaze shifted toward Zeon.
Even now, Zeon had his eyes closed, immersed in his own world.
—Meeting that boy was a stroke of luck. Thanks to him, we were able to cross the barrier and come this far.
“He’s a pretty useful idiot.”
—Your sharp tongue hasn’t changed. He’s no mere brat, though.
“Once an idiot, always an idiot. Like me.”
—Are you still blaming yourself? What happened to me wasn’t your fault.
“It’s all my fault. If I had been stronger, my wife and daughter wouldn’t have died—and your soul wouldn’t have been sealed into a sword.”
Regret filled Deioden’s face.
Though a hundred years had passed since that day, the memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
His wife and daughter, excited for their long-awaited trip.
His lifelong friend—their brother and uncle.
New York—the place his wife and daughter had always wanted to visit.
The Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Broadway, Times Square.
They had seen everything they wanted, enjoying it to their hearts’ content.
He had never felt happier than when he saw them smiling.
Sharing a beer with his one and only friend—it felt like he had the whole world.
But their happiness didn’t last long.
A massive dragon tore through the skies above Manhattan.
It had merely revealed its presence lightly—but New York was devastated, and more than half its population perished.
His wife and daughter died that day as well.
Even now, he could not forget the sight of them dying horribly before his eyes.
His only friend, Crayon, was also mortally wounded and dying.
At the very brink of death, Crayon awakened.
Even so, it wasn’t enough to save his life.
Instead, using his ability, Crayon sealed his own soul into Deioden’s sword.
That was how Crayon had continued to exist—by placing himself within the blade.
If not for Crayon, Deioden might have ended his own life long ago, unable to forgive himself.
And in turn, Crayon had endured his hellish existence by relying on Deioden.
But now, that end was close.
The lives of both the old man and the sword had reached their limits—and the end was now clearly within reach.
“Before I die, I should at least take one dragon with me to the afterlife. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to face them.”
Hieltun wasn’t the sole cause of this catastrophe.
But that didn’t mean he was free of responsibility.
After all, he was one of those who instigated Krasias to terraform Earth.
Just then—
Fssss!
The sand floating around Zeon began to gather together with a strange sound.
Crayon spoke.
—Looks like he’s awakened a new skill.
Around Zeon, countless sand spheres formed.
Like satellites, they began orbiting him.
Papapapabang!
Then, as if a trigger had been pulled, the sand spheres shot out at terrifying speed.
The sandstone walls were riddled with coin-sized holes, collapsing in chunks.
It was like a Claymore mine had detonated.
So the name of the new skill became Claymore.
Sand compressed as hard as steel pellets, detonating like a Claymore.
If the range was focused forward, the explosive power increased, making it a powerful anti-personnel skill.
If spread widely, the explosive force weakened but turned into a wide-area attack.
It was a name that fit perfectly.
It wasn’t perfect yet—but the concept was complete.
There was plenty of room for improvement, and if developed properly, it seemed capable of taking down most awakened in a single strike.
Zeon opened his eyes and stood up.
By then, Crayon had already disappeared.
Zeon looked at Deioden and asked,
“Well? Does it seem usable?”
“It’s still far from enough.”
“Tch!”
“But… you did a little better.”
“Oh? What’s this? That feels weird coming from you. Just call me an idiot like usual.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Just because I praised you a little doesn’t mean you’re not an idiot.”
“That’s better. Heh.”
Zeon let out a small laugh.
***
The two of them stayed in the Valley of Death for a while.
During that time, Zeon refined his newly learned skill, while Deioden spent his time in meditation.
Though Deioden didn’t say it outright, Zeon could tell—he was preparing for the final battle.
Zeon didn’t disturb him and spent his time alone.
Papapapabang!
Coin-sized holes were blasted through the sandstone.
They were traces left by Claymore.
Now, he could use the new skill fairly naturally.
Each time he used it, however, a large chunk of mana was consumed.
But that couldn’t be helped.
The stronger the skill, the greater the mana cost—it was only natural.
Although reaching C-rank had significantly increased his mana, it was still not enough.
Thankfully, he had Elura’s Tear.
Without it, he would have had to constantly calculate his remaining mana and wouldn’t be able to fight properly.
Just as Zeon was about to use Claymore again—
“Ghk!”
A terrifying killing intent and overwhelming pressure suddenly crashed down on him.
Startled, he turned around.
Before he knew it, Deioden was standing there.
“Deioden?”
“You’ve become somewhat usable.”
“…What?”
“But you’re still lacking. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“At that level, you’re of no help.”
“So?”
“You need to become stronger.”
“How?”
Zeon frowned.
He had already pushed himself relentlessly.
Among all awakened on Earth, there were probably none who had risen in rank as quickly as he had.
Following Deioden, he had never once let his guard down or taken a real rest.
That was how he had reached C-rank.
And yet, even that wasn’t enough in Deioden’s eyes.
Deioden drew Crayon and spoke.
“Survive.”
“…What?”
“Survive against me. If you do, you’ll become stronger than you are now.”
“What? Are you insane—”
Only then did Zeon fully grasp the meaning behind Deioden’s words.
Swaaak!
Deioden swung Crayon.
A massive gust of pressure instantly slammed into Zeon.
Without thinking, Zeon instinctively created a sand barrier.
Crack!
But the sand barrier couldn’t withstand even a single strike from Deioden.
It shattered instantly, leaving Zeon exposed.
And Deioden’s blade came swinging again.
“Damn it!”
Zeon hurriedly retreated using Sand Steps.
Deioden immediately pursued him.
An overwhelming pressure and killing intent—far greater than anything he had ever felt from a monster—pressed down on him.
Just Deioden’s gaze and presence made his entire body tense.
Swaaak!
Crayon slashed toward him again.
Even a graze would mean serious injury—if it landed cleanly, it would be fatal.
There was no holding back.
Zeon had to fight desperately just to survive.
“Chaaat! Claymore!”
Zeon unleashed his newly learned skill.
Sand gathered into spheres, and countless spheres shot forward like bullets at Deioden.
Tatatatatang!
But every single sand sphere was blocked by the massive Crayon and fell uselessly to the ground.
“Damn it!”
He had believed Claymore to be a nearly perfect anti-personnel skill.
He had never imagined it would be dismantled so easily.
Even if the opponent was Deioden, he had expected to at least make him hesitate.
Perhaps he had underestimated Deioden.
Or perhaps he had overestimated himself.
Maybe both.
Crack!
With a single slash, Deioden split a massive slab of sandstone in two—
without using any special sword skill.
A chill ran down Zeon’s spine.
He had known Deioden was beyond monstrous—but facing him directly exceeded all expectations.
Every single strike carried more power than most awakened’s skills.
It wasn’t that Deioden didn’t use skills—
he simply didn’t need to.
Zeon fought with everything he had.
Sand Blaster, Sand Missile, Claymore—he used every anti-personnel skill at his disposal.
But none of them inflicted any meaningful damage.
Deioden spoke,
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Swaaak!
Crayon came slicing toward him, fast enough to cleave him in half.
Zeon narrowly dodged at the last possible moment.
A cold sweat ran down his back.
The immense power contained within Crayon was terrifying.
Deioden was serious.
He believed Zeon’s growth was insufficient—and intended to force him to rise to the level he desired.
He was truly fighting him.
If Zeon failed to reach that level—
he would die.
Deioden was not the type to make empty threats.
Goosebumps spread across Zeon’s entire body.
But he ignited his fighting spirit.
He knew he wasn’t yet at a level where he could stand against Deioden.
But that didn’t mean he would just sit there and accept death.
He would endure.
Find a way.
And strike back.
That was the method of survival he had learned by following Deioden.
Raising his control over sand to its limit, Zeon shouted,
“Fine! Let’s do this, you damn old bastard!”
“Come at me, idiot.”