Chapter 353: Penacony Arc 『 Part Forty-eight 』, Rondo Across Countless Kalpas Part 2
「 As the dance steps whirled, the very boundaries of the stage seemed to dissolve. Darkness flooded over their ankles like a rising tide, yet the moment it touched the ground, it shattered into a myriad of starlight.
Wherever Black Swan's high heels swept, the starlight wove a tapestry of memories. Countless specks of light flowed beneath their toes, occasionally clustering into blurred silhouettes, only to scatter again into desolate trails. Every rotation awakened a new fragment, yet every pirouette crushed the landscapes of days gone by.
"Everyone has a past, and the past forges the present. Some can grasp their memories, while others are haunted by them, unable to escape."
With a gentle push from Black Swan's fingertips, Acheron spun away under her palm.
Black Swan admired the scene; she tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a confident arc—
"And so, I made my move." 」
「 ..... 」
〜Runeterra World〜
"Does this woman actually intend to peer into the memories of an Emanator? How intriguing…"
In a subterranean factory in Zaun, Silco leaned back against a leather sofa. He watched Black Swan's movements with rapt attention, terrified of missing a single detail regarding the Star Gods.
"What lies within an Emanator's memory? The blessing of a Star God? The visage of a god? Or perhaps… the true meaning of the Path of The Hunt?"
At the mere thought, he grew restless with anticipation.
Jinx lay languidly atop a nearby pipe, swinging her legs, chewing on a piece of candy she had scavenged from somewhere. She glanced at the sky and curled her lip.
"Boring… so boring! What else could it be? Just some lifeless junk, like who they kissed when they were kids, how many people they've killed, how they got strong… We can't even use their Path power, so why care so much?"
Silco gave a low chuckle, his gaze still locked onto the sky.
"You are always so impatient, Jinx. Secrets are like the pipes beneath Zaun; they look unremarkable on the surface, but who knows what flows within? If we can learn about other civilizations through her memories, it would be of immense help to us."
Silco picked up a bottle from the table and poured himself a glass of red wine. Inhaling the rich aroma, he wore an expression of profound satisfaction.
"More importantly… intelligence. We aren't the only ones watching the sky; those fools in Piltover are certainly paying attention. If they possess information on an Emanator and we do not, they might pull ahead of us using this transcendent power of the Paths."
"So what? It's not like they have Pathstriders."
"What if, Jinx… even if there is only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, we cannot give up."
Silco's voice was low and rasping.
"If an Emanator's memory truly contains the method to step onto the Path of The Hunt, I must ensure Zaun grasps it first and cultivates our first generation of Pathstriders."
—
「 "I must know… which kind is she?"
Their dance steps traced elegant trajectories in the void, like two stars pulling at one another. Black Swan's left hand lightly supported Acheron's waist, her right hand interlaced with Acheron's fingers, guiding the next turn within the darkness.
"This banquet has attracted many: the IPC, the Garden of Recollection, the Masked Fools, the Nameless… and even… the Annihilation Gang of Destruction."
"They were supposed to attend, and yet—"
In the interval between rotations, Black Swan suddenly tightened her grip on Acheron's fingertips.
Their gazes collided abruptly mid-dance—Black Swan's predatory eyes shone with long-premeditated brilliance, as if attempting to stir a tempest. Yet Acheron's pupils remained tranquil, like a deep sea that even a storm could not disturb.
"Duke Inferno is dead. He and his scions will never attend the banquet. Beautiful Ranger, what did you do?"
Her gaze pierced into the depths of Acheron's eyes like a needle, only to be swallowed instantly by a towering wave of blood—
Charred beams leaned precariously amidst the ruins, and the dome of the Ever-Flame Mansion collapsed with a roar. Countless severed, burning limbs were scattered across the steps—boiling, flaming husks resembling unspent incense sticks.
And at the end of that mountain of corpses and sea of blood, Acheron slowly turned around.
Those crimson eyes stared directly at her.
"Tell me… are you asking me?" 」
「 ..... 」
〜OVERLORD World〜
A monster.
Ainz reached this conclusion the moment he saw the Ranger standing amidst the ash and ruins.
When Duke Inferno first appeared, Ainz had made a rough assessment of the Ever-Flame Mansion's strength.
Considering the track record of the Duke and his subordinates in annihilating civilizations and committing countless slaughters across the cosmos without facing retribution, there was a high probability they possessed the power to destroy the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
And yet, they had died so easily. Ainz hadn't even seen Acheron take any damage… in other words, it was a one-sided massacre from the very beginning.
If a skeleton could have expressions, the Guardians would likely have seen a quite bitter smile on the face of their Supreme One.
(Sebas is reliable; having him pose as an Emanator of 『 Abundance 』 shouldn't lead to any exposure… but if it attracts a monster like Acheron, will the losses outweigh the gains?)
(…But we aren't as flamboyant as Duke Inferno. We are only operating within a few human nations; it should be fine, right?)
After careful consideration, Ainz decided to maintain his original course.
To say he wasn't afraid at all, that would be a lie. But Ainz was not so cowardly as to let a potential threat bind his hands and feet.
"A-Ainz-sama!"
Mare's voice suddenly rang out in the Throne Room.
Ainz instinctively looked toward him, only to see Mare pointing timidly at the sky.
The sky?
Ainz looked up and witnessed a scene that chilled him to the bone.
—
「 The strings suddenly emitted a piercing dissonance, as if the chords had been severed by a blade.
Acheron's dance steps abruptly turned violent. The hand that had been lightly resting on Black Swan's waist suddenly tightened, her fingers digging deep into the other's skin.
Before Black Swan could even cry out, Acheron tore black feathers from her body.
The first, the second… countless feathers fluttered down amidst the crimson. The indifference in Acheron's eyes was gone, replaced by a beast-like focus.
In her panic, Black Swan tried to break free, but she could not escape no matter how she struggled. Like a moth caught in a spider's web, the more she flapped her wings, the tighter the viscous threads bound her limbs.
—Acheron had pinned her firmly into this dance for two. 」
「 ..... 」