The Lowest-Ranked Hero Has Returned

Chapter 37: The Will (6)

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 37: The Will (6)

"...Ashes?"

Astaroth frowned as he watched the gray ashes swirling in the air.

There was no reason for ashes to be flying around, especially when no fire magic had been used.

It wasn’t dust, but ashes—why?

"Where did this...?"

Before he could finish his thought, a fist came flying from behind, striking Astaroth's face with brute force.

"Ugh!"

The impact rattled his brain, and Astaroth was pushed back.

"What...?"

Astaroth, blood dripping from his nose, glared fiercely at Dale, who had landed the punch.

How was it possible for someone to survive the injury he had just inflicted?

'No.'

A hole the size of a head had been blasted through Dale’s chest.

His heart, along with his lungs, should have been completely destroyed by the burst of demonic energy.

So how was he still alive?

And more importantly...

'The wound is gone.'

The gaping hole in Dale's chest had somehow vanished, leaving his body completely restored.

"Hah."

A soft, incredulous laugh escaped Astaroth’s lips.

"A power that can heal a wound like that instantly, even with the heart and lungs ripped out."

There weren’t many powers in the world capable of such an absurd feat.

"It must be a ‘blessing.’"

A blessing from the gods, something only a rare few heroes were known to possess.

Now Astaroth understood why that gray-haired candidate had been so confident even when facing a ‘Archbishop.’

"So, you had more than one trick up your sleeve."

He had thought the mysterious blue liquid in the glass bottle was the extent of Dale's hidden cards, but who would have guessed he also possessed a blessing?

"This is... not the kind of interesting turn of events I was hoping for. Ah, could you at least tell me the name of the blessing? I've never seen one that can heal such a fatal wound so quickly."

"You sure talk a lot."

Dale stomped the ground fiercely, clearly uninterested in engaging in idle chatter.

'No time.'

There were only three minutes left until the effects of the Stigma amplifier wore off.

'Once the effect ends, it's over.'

Although Dale’s mana had recently increased dramatically after absorbing the First Flame, it was still nowhere near enough to fight Astaroth, barely reaching even half the level of the other candidates.

"Sss..."

Dale gathered all the mana increased by the Stigma amplifier and focused it at the tip of his sword.

The compressed mana began absorbing the surrounding light, turning the blade pitch black.

Sun Sword.

Fifth Form, Black Spot.

Though its range was much smaller than the higher form, White Light, its concentrated attack power was significantly stronger.

"Raaaah!"

With a roar, Dale unleashed the compressed mana in a single point.

The blackened sword hurtled towards Astaroth with ferocious speed.

"Khh!"

Astaroth hastily retreated, enveloping himself in a barrier of demonic energy.

However...

Krrrrk! Crack!

The concentrated magic tore through the violet barrier encasing Astaroth, piercing his heart.

No, to be precise...

"Hah. That was really close."

Astaroth only thought his heart had been pierced.

The sword was deflected just before it could reach his chest, blocked by the space that distorted like a mirage.

"Honestly... It's amazing. How can you penetrate my barrier with that little bit of mana?"

Even though his magic had increased explosively after drinking the blue liquid, Dale's total mana was still relatively low—barely two or three times the average candidate's. For Astaroth, it was no more than child's play.

'If this candidate ever gains more mana...'

Just imagining what kind of monster Dale could become sent a chill down his spine.

"But, well... That's not something I need to worry about right now."

What mattered now was obtaining the Seven Eyes, and Dale lacked the power to stop him.

"Oh, and by the way."

Astaroth smiled, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

"You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve."

A menacing glow emanated from Astaroth’s Stigma, and veins bulged grotesquely across his upper body, like the roots of a tree.

His violet demonic energy spread like a web, corrupting the surrounding space.

The space tainted by his demonic energy began to warp like a heat mirage.

"The Blessing of Distortion."

Astaroth looked at the distorted space with a twisted smile.

"It's the grace given to me by the Demon God."

A blessing that warps the very space it touches with demonic energy.

It was a blessing with destructive power, but one that demanded a heavy price.

However, against the opponent standing before him, there was no point in holding back.

"I never imagined I'd have to go all out against a candidate, not even a professor."

Astaroth, with a self-deprecating smile, spread his arms wide.

"Let’s see whose blessing is more favored by the gods—yours or mine."

With a snap of his fingers, the warped space surged towards Dale.

Crack! Crunch!

His limbs twisted.

His skull caved in, spilling brain matter.

His crushed organs spilled out through his shattered ribs.

"Kyaaaah! Dale, no!"

Iris's scream echoed through the dreamlike barrier once more.

There was no doubt that he had died instantly.

Dale's body, now reduced to a mere lump of flesh, rolled helplessly across the ground.

"Now, let's see you come back from that."

No matter how miraculous a blessing one might have, it seemed impossible for someone to return from being reduced to a lump of flesh.

Confident in this belief, Astaroth leisurely turned his gaze away from Dale’s mangled corpse.

"As much as you like."

Swish!

With ashes swirling around him, Dale’s sword slashed at Astaroth.

"What...!"

Astaroth’s eyes widened in shock.

"Hah... Do you have some kind of blessing of immortality?"

"Who knows."

Strictly speaking, it was the Blessing of Revival.

The inability to die no matter what was done to him made it effectively no different from a blessing of immortality.

"Ridiculous."

Astaroth shook his head, his face filled with disbelief.

He had suspected it was a formidable blessing when he saw Dale’s heart and lungs regenerate in an instant, but to think he actually possessed an ability that rendered him incapable of dying...

'But...'

Astaroth raised his hand, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

"Just because you can't die... doesn't mean you can defeat me."

Crack!

The distorted space sliced Dale’s body in half, separating his upper body from his lower.

"Khh!"

The wound healed instantly thanks to the Blessing of Revival, but the excruciating pain of having his body split in two lingered, tightening around him like a vice.

"I'm curious to see how many times you can keep coming back."

With a snap of Astaroth’s fingers, the warped space crushed Dale’s body once again.

"Damn it...!"

Dale cursed under his breath, trying to avoid Astaroth’s attacks, but in a space that was completely distorted, evading was nearly impossible.

And more importantly...

"Ugh!"

As he thrust his body into the gaps in the warped space, Dale swung his sword at Astaroth.

Clang!

The desperate strike was effortlessly blocked by the barrier of demonic energy and deflected away.

'The Stigma amplifier's effect has worn off.'

Dale felt the mana that had been boiling within him start to cool and fade, biting his lip in frustration.

‘The effect of the Stigma elixir has worn off.’

Dale bit his lip as he felt the magic that had been surging through his entire body gradually cool down.

The precarious balance of power that had barely been maintained through the Stigma elixir began to collapse rapidly.

Crack! Snap! Crunch!

With the effect of the Stigma elixir gone, the ensuing battle was one-sided.

Every time an attack infused with the Blessing of Distortion was launched, Dale's body was shattered, healed, and shattered again.

"Ugh!"

Suddenly, memories of his past life flashed through his mind.

Memories of a time when he was powerless.

‘It was always like this.’

Some might call the blessing that allowed him to revive instantly a cheat-like ability, but Dale knew better than anyone from his previous life experiences that mere "immortality" meant nothing.

‘Even if there were an immortal ant, it would still just be an ant.’

In the face of overwhelming power, the ability to not die was utterly powerless.

"Agh, ugh."

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

The repeated deaths slowly ate away at Dale's sanity.

The accumulated pain blazed up, consuming his reason like firewood.

‘It hurts.’

How many times has he died already?

How many times have his bones been broken, and his flesh torn apart?

“Ha, haha! Amazing! You must have died over a hundred times by now, and yet you can still regenerate!”

Astaroth laughed maniacally, stomping his foot.

“Come on, why don't you try coming back to life once more?”

Rumble!

A whirlwind of purple demonic energy tore Dale’s body to shreds.

His body, torn into dozens of pieces, turned into gray ash, only to regenerate again starting from the heart marked by the Stigma.

“Ha, what is this…?”

Astaroth, now beyond astonished, shook his head with a look of disgust.

He was about to unleash the demonic energy towards Dale once more when—

“Stop! Stop it already!”

Iris stepped in, standing in front of Astaroth as if to protect Dale.

“That’s enough… Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Hm. But Dale's life hasn’t ended yet, has it?”

“Was your goal to kill Dale?”

“Well…”

Astaroth swallowed his words as if Iris had struck a nerve.

He clicked his tongue as he looked down at the fallen Dale.

“I wanted to test how far the blessing could last… but it seems that will have to wait for another time.”

Astaroth turned his gaze away from Dale and started walking towards Iris.

“Stop… Still…”

Dale, who had barely managed to rise after being torn apart and resurrected, stumbled and fell again, unable to maintain his balance.

Watching Astaroth approach Iris, Dale gritted his teeth in frustration.

His mana was long depleted, and the accumulated exhaustion made it hard to even stay on his feet.

“Damn it.”

He thought that he would live a new life after returning to the past.

He had resolved to walk a different path from his previous life.

‘And yet, I’m still in this miserable state.’

Even if he struggled to the point of losing his life, like a pebble discarded by the riverbank—

Even if his legs were crushed and mangled as he thrashed about—

‘This time too, again…’

He would fail to save anything.

He would fail to protect anyone.

Just the same as before.

Unchanged.

He could do nothing but watch helplessly as someone dear to him died right before his eyes.

“Dale…”

Iris, who had been looking at Astaroth approaching her, sighed in relief, glancing back at Dale.

A faint smile played on her lips as she murmured softly.

“…Thank goodness.”

Her voice was so calm, as if she had no regrets or hesitation.

She spoke as if at peace.

“……”

Like a lightning strike, Dale’s mind went blank.

‘Thank goodness?’

For what?

What was she thankful for?

Iris was now at risk of losing not only her “seven eyes” but also her life.

If he had done nothing, she would have only lost her eyes.

Because of him.

Because of him.

She was experiencing a hell far worse than in their previous life.

And yet…

‘How… how can she say she’s thankful?’

His thoughts tangled like a knotted ball of thread.

He couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t accept it.

Why didn’t she run away in their past life?

Why was she just standing still now, and instead blocking Astaroth?

She had seen with her own eyes that he would come back to life no matter what.

She knew that his life was as insignificant as a pebble by the riverbank.

‘Why, why, why, why?’

Why was she able to say “thank goodness” at the end?

“Ugh, ugh.”

Dale staggered to his feet.

Though he had no more mana left in his body—

Though his mind was in tatters, like a torn piece of cloth—

Though simply breathing sent waves of pain ripping through his lungs—

Even so—

“Thank goodness… you say?”

He stood up.

With trembling legs, he planted his feet on the ground, and with shaking hands, he gripped his sword.

“Who are you to say… it’s thankful?”

Why she said “thank goodness” at the end, he didn’t know.

He probably would never understand the reason.

‘But there’s one thing I do know.’

‘Iris saved my life.’

Even if it was just one among thousands, tens of thousands of lives.

Even if it was just one insignificant pebble by the riverbank.

She sacrificed her life to save his.

So now—

Fwoosh!

Flames began to engulf his entire body, wrapping around the Stigma.

The depleted mana roared back to life, seething like molten lava.

“Now it’s my turn.”

Boom!

With a resounding explosion, the sword in his hand burst into flames.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]