The Last Place Hero’s Return - Chapter 37

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 37. Last Words (6)
“…Ash?”
Ashtaroth’s brow furrowed as he watched the swirling gray ash scatter through the air.
He hadn’t cast any flame-type magic, so why would ash be dancing about instead of mere dust?
“Where did this….”
Before the question could even finish forming.
Crack!
A fist came hurtling from behind, striking Ashtaroth’s face with brutal force.
“Ugh!”
The impact that shook his very brain sent Ashtaroth skidding backward.
“What…?”
Ashtaroth flew back from Dale’s punch, his eyes widening as he clutched his bleeding nose.
He had survived that wound?
‘No.’
A hole the size of a head had been torn through his chest.
His heart and lungs should have been completely obliterated in the surge of demonic energy—how could he possibly still be alive?
And more than that.
‘The wound has vanished.’
Dale’s chest, which had been gaping open moments before, had already returned to its original state.
“Ha.”
A hollow laugh escaped Ashtaroth’s lips.
“A power that instantly heals a wound where the heart and lungs have been completely torn away.”
There were not many forces in this world capable of such an absurd feat.
“It’s ‘Divine Blessing,’ isn’t it?”
A blessing from the gods—something possessed by only an extremely select few among heroes.
Now Ashtaroth finally understood how that gray-haired Candidate could be so confident even standing before the ‘Primate.’
“You weren’t hiding just one trick.”
He had assumed that mysterious blue liquid in the glass vial was the extent of his hidden cards, yet he possessed a Divine Blessing as well.
“This is quite… I didn’t expect such an entertaining development. Ah, by any chance, could you tell me the name of your Divine Blessing? I’ve never seen one that instantly heals such a fatal wound before.”
“You’ve been talking an awful lot since earlier.”
Dale stomped forward fiercely, making it clear he had no intention of indulging in idle chatter.
‘I’m running out of time.’
Three minutes remained before the Stigma Amplifier’s effect wore off.
‘Once the Stigma Amplifier’s effect fades, it’s over.’
Though his magical power had increased considerably after absorbing the Primordial Flame recently, it still fell far short of even half that of other Candidates—nowhere near enough to fight Ashtaroth.
“Tch.”
He gathered the amplified magical power and concentrated it at the tip of his gripped blade.
The mana, compressed to its limit, drank in the surrounding light and stained itself with darkness.
Solar Sword.
Fifth Form, Black Spot.
Though its range was considerably smaller than the higher-tier technique “White Light,” this skill possessed far greater destructive power when concentrated at a single point.
“Haaaaaaah!”
I unleashed a roar, channeling my mana into a concentrated point and releasing it forward.
The blade, stained with black light, surged forward viciously toward Ashtaroth.
“Tch!”
Ashtaroth hastily retreated, spreading his demonic energy like a curtain to envelop his entire body.
Crash! Crack!
The concentrated mana savagely tore through the violet barrier wrapping around Ashtaroth’s form and pierced straight toward his heart.
Or so I thought.
To be precise.
“Phew. That was genuinely dangerous.”
I had believed I’d pierced his heart.
Until the blade bounced off before Ashtaroth’s chest, blocked by a space warped like a heat shimmer.
“Truly… no matter how many times I witness it, I’m astounded. How can you possibly tear through my demonic barrier with such a pittance of mana?”
Even accounting for the explosive surge in my mana after consuming the blue liquid, the absolute quantity I possessed was hardly substantial.
At most, it amounted to perhaps two to three times the average mana held by Candidates in the Program.
Of course, that alone represented an enormous increase compared to my original reserves, but from Ashtaroth’s perspective, it was merely comparing acorns.
‘If that Candidate were to acquire mana as well.’
The thought of what kind of monster he might become sent a chill down my spine.
“But then again… that’s not something I need to worry about right now.”
What mattered now was obtaining the “Seven Eyes,” and the fact that Dale lacked the power to stop me.
“Ah, and another thing.”
Ashtaroth smiled wickedly.
“You weren’t the only one hiding a trump card, were you?”
An ominous glow erupted from Ashtaroth’s stigma, and grotesque veins bulged prominently around it.
Veins like tree roots sprawled across his entire upper body.
Violet demonic energy flowing from Ashtaroth spread like a spider’s web, consuming the surrounding space.
The space consumed by the demonic energy warped as if heat shimmer were rising from it.
“Blessing of Distortion.”
Ashtaroth gazed at the warped space consumed by his demonic energy, his lips curling into a bloodthirsty smile.
“The name of the blessing bestowed upon me by the Demon God.”
A blessing that distorts the very fabric of space touched by demonic energy.
Though it demanded a terrible price due to its destructive power, the opponent before me was hardly worth such considerations.
“I never imagined I’d have to go all out against a mere Candidate, not even an instructor.”
Ashtaroth himself seemed displeased with the situation, letting out a self-deprecating laugh as he spread both arms wide.
“Your blessing and my Blessing of Distortion.”
Snap.
Ashtaroth flicked his fingers lightly.
“Let’s see which of us has received more of the divine’s favor, shall we?”
Waves of distorted space crashed down upon me.
Crunch! Crack!
Limbs twisted grotesquely.
Brain matter sprayed between the shattered skull.
Pulverized organs spilled through fractured ribs.
“Kyaaaaaaah! D-Dale!”
Iris’s anguished scream echoed once more within the Illusory Veil.
Instant death—beyond any shadow of doubt.
My corpse, reduced to a handful of flesh, rolled pathetically across the ground.
“Well then, shall we see if this one resurrects as well?”
No matter what blessing related to healing one possessed, surely resurrection was impossible when the entire body had become nothing but a handful of mangled flesh.
With such thoughts, I turned my gaze away from my own pulverized corpse.
“Gladly.”
Whoosh!
My sword swung toward Ashtaroth amid swirling ashes.
“What—!”
Ashtaroth’s eyes widened in shock.
“How… do you possess some blessing of immortality?”
“Who knows.”
Technically, it was a blessing of resurrection.
But in the sense that I could not die no matter what, it was no different from immortality.
“How absurd.”
Ashtaroth shook his head with an expression of disgust.
He had suspected it was no ordinary blessing when my heart and lungs regenerated instantly despite being torn away, but he never imagined I actually possessed the ability to never die.
‘However.’
Ashtaroth raised his hand, a cold sneer playing at his lips.
“Not dying does not mean you can defeat me.”
Crunch!
Distorted space cleaved my upper and lower body in half.
“Ugh!”
The wound itself regenerated instantly due to my resurrection blessing, but the horrific pain of being split in two lingered like an echo, torturing me.
“I wonder how long you can keep resurrecting.”
As Ashtaroth flicked his fingers lightly, space warped like heat shimmer, crushing my body once more.
“Damn it…!”
I cursed under my breath and moved to evade Ashtaroth’s attack, but with the entire surrounding space twisted into chaos, dodging was nearly impossible.
And above all.
“Hgh!”
I thrust my body through the warped space and swung my blade toward Ashtaroth.
Clang!
My sword strike, unleashed with all my strength, was futilely blocked by the Demon God’s barrier and bounced back.
‘Has the stigma amplifier’s effect worn off?’
I felt the magical energy roiling through my entire body grow cold and still, and I bit down on my lip.
The delicate balance of power that had been maintained by the Sacred Mark Amplifier began to crumble at an alarming rate.
Crack! Snap! Crunch!
With the Sacred Mark Amplifier’s effects fading, the ensuing battle became utterly one-sided.
Each time an attack infused with the blessing of distortion was unleashed, my body shattered pathetically, only to regenerate and shatter again.
“Cough!”
Suddenly, memories from my past life flashed through my mind.
Memories of those powerless days.
‘It was always like this.’
Some might call it a broken ability when they see someone die instantly only to be resurrected by a blessing, but I knew better than anyone from my past life’s experience that merely “not dying” held no meaning whatsoever.
‘An immortal ant is still just an ant, after all.’
Before an overwhelming gap in power, the ability to not die was painfully, utterly useless.
“Ah, ugh.”
The successive deaths gnawed away at my sanity bit by bit.
The accumulated pain burned like kindling, consuming my reason.
‘It hurts.’
How many times have I died now?
How many times have my bones shattered? How many times has my flesh been torn apart?
“Ha, haha! Remarkable! It seems you’ve died well over a hundred times already, yet you can still regenerate!”
Ashtaroth burst into mad laughter, stamping his feet with glee.
“Now then, let’s see if you can come back from this!”
Whoooosh!
Violet demonic energy spiraled violently, shredding my entire body to ribbons.
My corpse, torn into dozens of pieces and transformed into gray ash, began to regenerate once more, centered around the heart marked with the Sacred Mark.
“Ha, what on earth….”
Ashtaroth shook his head in disgust, his expression transcending mere shock.
Just as he was about to unleash demonic energy at me once more.
“Stop! Please, stop now!”
Iris stepped forward to shield me, blocking Ashtaroth’s path.
“Isn’t this enough already?”
“Hmm. I would say so, except that Dale’s life hasn’t ended yet, has it?”
“Was your purpose to kill Dale?”
“That is….”
Ashtaroth swallowed hard, struck by her words.
He gazed down at my fallen form and clicked his tongue.
“I wanted to test how far your blessing could endure… but it seems I’ll have to confirm that another time.”
Ashtaroth turned his gaze away from me and stepped toward Iris.
“Wait… not yet.”
I, having been torn into dozens of pieces and regenerated, struggled unsteadily to my feet, but immediately lost my balance and collapsed once more.
Dale, who had been torn into dozens of pieces and revived, unsteadily tried to get up, but soon lost his balance and collapsed back to the ground.
I ground my teeth as I watched Ashtaroth approach Iris.
My mana had long since been depleted, and the accumulated fatigue made it nearly impossible to even stand.
“Damn it.”
I thought I would return and live a different life.
I resolved to walk a path different from my past life.
‘Yet here I am, in this same wretched state.’
Even if I thrashed about, throwing away my life like pebbles scattered along the Riverbank.
Even if I struggled with legs that were crushed, mangled, and trampled.
‘Again. Once more.’
I saved nothing.
I protected no one.
The same.
Unchanged.
Must I watch helplessly as someone precious dies before my eyes?
“Dale…”
With me left behind, Iris gazed at Ashtaroth approaching her and exhaled softly, her hand brushing across her chest.
She murmured in a small voice, a faint smile playing at her lips.
“…I’m glad.”
As if she harbored no regrets, no hesitation whatsoever.
In a voice so serene.
That was how.
She spoke.
“….”
Like a bolt of lightning.
My mind flashed white.
‘Glad? How could she—’
What could possibly.
What could possibly be fortunate about this?
Iris now faced the loss of not just the Seven Eyes, but her very life.
Had I done nothing, she would have lost only her eyes.
Because of me.
Through my actions.
She had been thrust into a hell far more terrible than anything in her past life.
And yet.
‘How could she possibly say she’s glad?’
My mind tangled like knotted thread.
I could not comprehend it.
I could not accept it.
Why had she not fled in her past life and instead returned?
Why did she not simply stand aside now and instead block Ashtaroth’s path?
You must have seen with your own eyes that even if I died, I would be resurrected.
My life was nothing.
You must have known it was as worthless as a pebble scattered along the Riverbank.
‘Why, why, why, why.’
Why could she leave behind those final words—”fortunate”?
“Ah… ugh.”
I stagger to my feet.
There is no more mana left within my body.
My mind has already been torn to tatters like a ragged cloth.
Each breath sends searing pain through my lungs as if they were being ripped apart.
And yet.
“Fortunate…? Really?”
I rise.
My trembling legs plant themselves on the ground, my quivering hands grip the sword.
“Who do you think you are… saying fortunate like that?”
I don’t know why she left those final words—”fortunate.”
I may never know.
Perhaps I never will, for all eternity.
‘But.’
One thing.
I know this truth.
‘Iris saved my life.’
Even if it was merely one life among thousands, tens of thousands of deaths.
Even if it was merely one pebble among the countless ones scattered along the Riverbank.
She sacrificed her own life to save mine.
So then.
Whoooosh!
Flames erupted around my stigma, engulfing my entire body in inferno.
The mana that had been depleted surged forth like molten lava, fierce and untamed.
“Now it’s my turn.”
Boom!
With a violent roar, flames exploded from the blade in my grip.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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