The Master of Ragnarok & Blesser of Einherjar: Volume 24 by Seiichi Takayama

Author:Seiichi Takayama [TAKAYAMA, SEIICHI]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: J-Novel Club
Published: 2023-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Tarshish, located on the southernmost tip of what is now known in the twenty-first century as the Iberian Peninsula, had been the Steel Clan’s base of operations ever since Yuuto had led them to the New World. As always, houses of sun-dried brick lined the streets. Tarshish was located within the wetlands, so it was easy for the townsfolk to gather the mud needed to build the bricks, just like they’d done in Yggdrasil and the Orient. Five years ago, the town had been bustling and full of life, but now...

“Everyone looks so gloomy,” Nozomu muttered with a frown as he walked the streets. Within the Steel Clan, he was known to have long since perished, so he’d donned a fake beard and wig to disguise his appearance.

“No kidding. What the hell is that Babel bastard doing?” Walking beside him, a golden-haired boy with an intense-looking face looked sour as he blamed the sights before them on the Steel Clan’s current reginarch. His name was Sigurd—Nozomu’s younger brother, as well as Fagrahvél’s son. Despite being only sixteen, he’d already been made vice-captain of the Múspell Unit, displaying outstanding talent as both a commander and a swordsman. The prevailing rumor was that Sigurd had already been selected to succeed Hildegard and become captain. Sigurd’s was yet another presence that stoked Nozomu’s feelings of inferiority, but Nozomu tried not to think about that right now.

“Isn’t that a Hliðskjálf over there?” Sigurd inquired.

“Sure looks like it. Why are they still building new ones?” Nozomu said with a frown. Before him was a massive building clearly still under construction, as the top half was uneven and incomplete.

Hliðskjálf, or ziggurats in local parlance, were towering structures originally built so that the people could get closer to heaven as they worshipped; however, they also served to display the dignity of their respective nations to their subjects and visitors from other countries. Even during Yuuto’s rule, small ziggurats continued to be built to support the faiths of the townsfolk, but this one was clearly several times more imposing, even in its incomplete stage.

“That’s not all... What’s with this ugly statue? Someone’s got bad taste.” Sigurd looked up at a gigantic bronze statue three times his size in apparent disgust. It held a spear in its right hand, and a severed human head in its left—a grotesque display indeed. “This is supposed to be Babel, right?”

“Yeah, and the head he’s holding is supposed to be...dad’s,” Nozomu replied.

“I get that the point’s to make the lie of his own accomplishment more believable, but still, I can’t say it makes me feel very good,” Sigurd grumbled.

“You said it.” Nozomu and Sigurd grimaced in unison, the disgust clear on both of their faces. They understood the reason and knew it had to be that way, but it didn’t change the fact that seeing their father disgraced like this deeply disturbed them.

Screwing up his face, Sigurd practically spat out his next words. “It’d be one thing if he could at least rule

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