30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 73

‘...It’s over.’

He felt no sense of relief—no joy at surviving, no thrill of victory.

It was merely the feeling of finally completing a difficult, necessary task he’d been forced to undertake.

For someone who had defeated a legendary monster, his reaction felt hollow, but he couldn’t help it.

“I lost...”

Had he defeated the monster with his own hands, perhaps he would have felt some satisfaction. But in the end, he had relied on someone else’s strength. He had given it his all, yet he lost—thoroughly, without a single excuse.

The taste lingering in his mouth wasn’t refreshing; it was as bitter as chewing a mouthful of herbs.

...However.

“Heh, as long as the kids are safe, that’s enough.”

He didn’t feel any sense of helplessness or self-loathing.

His students, his kids, had survived. That one fact was his only source of pride.

—For Pendragon! For Lionel...!

—Waaah!

From a distance, he heard the triumphant cheers of victory.

It seemed they had succeeded in annihilating the gnolls within the Coliseum.

Even amidst the mingling shouts of countless voices, he could distinctly recognize his students’ voices, confirming that they were all safe.

“You brats.”

Finally, Ihan allowed himself a satisfied smile.

“Haha, it seems being a teacher suits you well. Or maybe you’ve always had a soft side, and I just didn’t know,” said Baltar Grace.

“...I’m just savoring the afterglow, so leave me be.”

“That arrogant mouth of yours hasn’t changed... If only you’d learn to respect your elders.”

“When someone’s worthy of respect, I do show it. But you’re not one of them, old man.”

“...Should I have just let you die?”

Baltar Grace clicked his tongue in exasperation. Even as Ihan lay there like a wilted vegetable, he was still as sharp-tongued as ever. He was the type of person whose mouth would float even if he drowned.

“Who told you to come so late? It would’ve been nice if you’d shown up when I called.”

But Ihan wasn’t complaining without reason.

—Help me out, old man.

When he’d first noticed the unusual presence of the monster, Baltar was the first person he had sought for help.

But the old man had—

“It’s unwise to act on uncertain information.”

“So you come after the disaster? I’d love to see you use that excuse if everyone had died, ha!”

“...Ahem.”

At this point, Baltar had nothing to say and averted his gaze. It was his own decision not to trust Ihan.

“Still, I came running the moment I sensed any trouble. So let’s move on, alright?”

The distance between the academy and the royal castle was roughly 30 kilometers. Baltar had covered that distance in an instant, so he’d put in quite an effort. But on the other hand—

“If I and the kids hadn’t held out, everyone would’ve been dead.”

“Mm, you’re right.”

Recognizing that the effort had meaning only because Ihan had held his ground, Baltar acknowledged the debt owed to Ihan for preventing a disaster when no one else had acted.

“Who knows about those mongrels, but if that thing had rampaged in the capital, it would have been disastrous.”

Slither... Slither...!

Baltar glanced at the dismembered Demon King, who was still attempting to regenerate even though he should be dead.

The title of “Immortal” suited this grotesque creature perfectly.

“...If that thing had managed to consume any food, even I would’ve struggled.”

“Lucky for us, it was too stupid.”

Ihan didn’t downplay his own contribution. Had that monster ignored him and consumed some other source of food, it would have regained much of its full strength, and the fight would have ended on the spot.

Had it regained even a fraction of its prime power by feeding, not even an aura user could have—

“Still, it’s a shame. Fighting it at its peak would’ve been fun. Heh.”

“...Senile old man.”

Ihan found himself wondering, if the Demon King had been at 100% instead of just 30%, would Baltar have still emerged victorious? In Ihan’s mind, Baltar Grace was a figure who could not be imagined losing.

‘If that troll is the Demon King, then this old man is the “God of War.”’

A giant of his era, undefeatable.

He doubted that even his perfected plum blossom sword technique would be able to make a dent.

“Enough. I’m tired of this.”

The mountain he aimed to climb still seemed far from visible.

Later, royal soldiers and reinforcements finally arrived, quickly securing the area.

Me?

I just stayed put.

“Rest now. I’ll handle the rest.”

Since the old man had shown rare consideration, Ihan decided to trust him with the cleanup. However—

“There may be people who’ll try to use that thing to their advantage, so burn it quickly.”

“I know. Don’t nag me.”

Knowing exactly what Ihan was referring to, Baltar obediently agreed to burn the Demon King’s corpse.

Undoubtedly, nobles, mages, or other schemers would try to claim ownership of that body. It wasn’t just speculation; he was certain they would, and he could already imagine the kinds of schemes they’d devise with it.

‘I won’t let anyone pull any stunts with something I struggled so hard to kill.’

If Ihan ever saw people scheming over the corpse, he would snap and break all their necks.

Understanding this, Baltar complied.

There might be complaints later, but...

...Who could even say anything to him?

Unless the War God himself returned, no one had the authority to command Baltar.

Fwoosh!

With aura blazing like fire, he set the Demon King’s body ablaze.

Aura—the mystical power obtainable only by superhumans, the ultimate goal of every knight. Its mysterious properties were beyond even magic’s understanding. And with the touch of that unknown power, the Demon King’s corpse went up in flames.

Ordinarily, burning a monster would release a foul deathly energy, and burning something as powerful as the Demon King should have filled the capital with black smoke, but aura “purified” it all.

The purest, most potent cleansing force in the world.

Before aura, even curses, resentments, and impurities had no place to linger.

‘If aura existed in the modern world, environmental issues would be solved.’

He wondered if aura users in the modern world would have made a fortune, clearing away impurities without harming the ecosystem.

‘...Guess I must be exhausted.’

Such random thoughts. Ihan gave a bitter laugh, realizing he wasn’t in top form.

And with that—

“...Handle the rest yourself, old man.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I want to rest.”

“You ungrateful brat, planning to dump all the work on an old man?”

“Should the one who did all the hard work also have to clean up?”

Why should he have to explain everything to people who arrived late?

“Haha, you’ve got quite the tongue on you.”

Though he was being sarcastic, his tone was lighthearted. It seemed he had no intention of stopping Ihan from leaving.

And then—

“You’ll be busy from now on. You’ve made too big a name for yourself with this incident.”

“...”

“Until now, they managed to keep all your achievements hidden, but this time, that’ll be difficult. You’ll likely be summoned to the capital within a few days.”

“...”

“Don’t act so put off. For some, this would be a glory they’ve dreamed of their entire lives.”

“Ugh! I can’t think about that right now. I’m leaving.”

Ihan waved dismissively, signaling he didn’t want to hear more, already feeling a headache coming on.

Knowing his personality, Baltar just chuckled, refraining from further comment.

Instead—

“Take this with you.”

“What is it?”

“Take it to a trustworthy alchemist or mage. You might get something useful out of it.”

“...Hm.”

He handed Ihan a gift.

The only remnant of the Demon King’s body that had survived the aura flames.

It looked like a jewel, but its grotesque appearance betrayed it as something else.

“This isn’t...?”

“It’s the heart. It somehow survived the fire.”

Grip.

At this point, only members of the legendary Order of the White Dragon, handpicked by the War God himself, could challenge him.