Chapter 045
Emperor Zigrenz had endured countless betrayals. It was no exaggeration to say that he had spent half his life fighting the daggers lurking behind his back.
At first, he had tried to understand each and every one of their circumstances. He believed that one who leads the empire ought to do so.
Scars kept piling up inside his heart. They did not heal, instead turning into wounds, and even when those faded, the pain remained. In the end, only solitude was left in their wake.
The only one to bear it all was himself. There was nowhere to lean on. He had to endure it alone.
He realized that ruthless coldness, rather than cheap mercy, was to everyone's benefit.
And so, he became a monarch of steel and blood.
He wanted his son to resemble him.
Just as he himself led the army on the frontlines, he hoped Zigrenz II would become a steadfast and cool-headed ruler.
But his son's blood ran hot.
"... Paolo."
The son in his arms gave no reply.
Tears mixed with the blood that splattered on his son's face, and streamed down.
He brought the cold, lifeless hand to his own cheek. Even so, warmth did not return.
'This can't be, this isn't right.'
The emperor buried his face in Paolo's chest.
It didn't feel real. No matter how desperately he called, his son didn't move an inch, making the emperor ache with resentment.
Clang—! Kang!
Ran and Oscar's swords clashed relentlessly.
Just before, Ran's attack had pierced not the emperor, but the crown prince's chest. The son, having thrown himself, had taken the blow instead of his father.
Ran struck for the emperor again, but at some point, Oscar had caught up and blocked him.
'He's strong.'
Ran was forced to focus all his efforts on fending off Oscar's relentless assault.
"I asked you. Who are you?"
Oscar seemed to spare the breath to speak even as he moved his body.
To Ran's eyes, his opponent seemed to be suppressing his anger.
"Oscar! You must take him alive! Don't let him get away!"
Kishin shouted, eyes bloodshot red.
He had witnessed the crown prince's assassination right before his eyes. The guilt of failing his duty as a retainer weighed less than the greater sense of loss and responsibility as someone greatly indebted to the royal family.
'Your Majesty!'
The empire's sovereign, the one meant to become a god, was now clutching his lifeless kin and weeping.
Kishin ground his teeth, glaring at Ran.
'How did he get through Nelga's barrier array?'
There was more than a few questions, but there was no time to consider them.
An assailant wearing the Special Unit uniform had assassinated the crown prince.
That was all that mattered.
'Need to escape—?!'
Just holding off Oscar's sword was a struggle, but with Kishin joining in, Ran had no room to maneuver.
He glanced behind him.
There was Zima, coughing up blood foam.
Thud!
Suddenly, Ran stabbed his sword into the ground and flipped it upwards, scattering dirt into Oscar's face.
"Ugh, you filthy—?!"
In the interim, Ran dashed to Emma and Zima's side.
'Just one more miracle—'
He recited a prayer inwardly.
Ever since becoming inquisitor Ran from priest Cyrano, he had always prayed in moments of dire crisis.
As an apostle acting on divine punishment, he prayed for the Lord's mercy or for courage. There were times he pleaded for the salvation of the unjust soul who had died by his own hand.
Now, he prayed to be granted power.
Ran didn't know about aura or holy power or any such things.
When, for a brief moment, he was granted power, it was only because he believed God had answered his prayer, and his will was present.
And a miracle occurred again.
'That light from before?!'
A fierce gale arose. Kishin's eyes widened. Oscar hesitated, halting his approach to Ran.
Neither believed in Holy Church.
However, it was hard to deny that the golden radiance surrounding the inquisitor originated from the divine realm.
In an instant, Kishin had a thought.
Why do I sense that?
Maybe it was one of those tricks by so-called gods. When they created humans, perhaps they engineered it so humanity would feel awe or terror in their presence, even at a mere trace.
So perhaps this was a false dread, imprinted unconsciously.
"Don't play games with me—!"
Lord Asriel was trying to take everything from him.
He didn't know how, but if that reckless inquisitor who had infiltrated the capital was truly the great warrior of God, then Kishin was prepared to face him.
Kishin planted his feet, spreading both arms wide.
Rumble...!
From beneath Kishin, cracks raced outward in all directions. The violent quake shook even the tall roadside trees, and soon the ground itself began to break apart.
Oscar cried out desperately.
"What are you doing?! Are you trying to destroy the capital?!"
As Kishin's wild red hair fluttered, shattered stones slowly floated upward. With only the whites of his eyes showing, he focused solely on gathering mana.
Ran watched it all.
"It's all right, don't worry."
He cradled Emma, wrapping an arm around her neck and holding her close. He looked down at Zima, who could barely breathe.
Golden wings softly enveloped the two.
Finally, Ran looked straight ahead.
Beyond Oscar and Kishin, he could see the emperor, holding his son while weeping in a pose much like his own.
Boom—!
Kishin's all-out spell exploded where Ran had been.
* * *
Before coming to the mainland, Adolf was called 'High Priest Lisitsa', but it had been quite a while since then. Even he had almost forgotten that name.
He recalled his original name because of priest Cyrano—inquisitor Ran.
High Priest Lisitsa finished preparing his transformation back into Adolf, applying heavy makeup and donning a flamboyant dress.
'The Lord does not foresee our future. I will prove it.'
Those words lingered in his mind.
Looking in the mirror, Adolf smiled bitterly. He didn't know whether that was due to those words or his own ridiculous appearance.
Creak.
It was before dawn.
Adolf looked up at the deep blue sky. As he walked a few steps, he suddenly halted and looked off into the distance.
Only a lonely, cold wind blew.
It was so quiet, as if the disturbance of the night before had been a lie.
'Priest Cyrano?'
By the time he arrived, everything was already over.
The scene was horrific. The Special Unit and holy knights retrieved numerous bodies.
Desperately, Adolf peeked over the shoulders of soldiers blocking the way, searching for Ran.
He was nowhere to be found.
The guilt of not being there at his last moment weighed on his heart.
He had no face to see him hung at the gate like a traitor's corpse.
'I should never have opened the door.'
The Lord had led him to the church.
Was it the priest who denied destiny who had sinned, or the priest who had failed his duty?
'Ah, poor soul.'
The only thing left was to live out life burdened with regret.
Step, step.
He reached the back alley. The smell of damp air rose. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, but he still wasn't.
"Ahem, ahem."
Adolf cleared his throat.
It was time to return to his role as the madam among the prostitutes.
"I'm back~"
He deliberately made his voice more cheerful. But the corners of his mouth soon drooped down.
Susan would usually be dozing at the entrance and wake up startled at a sign of someone's presence. Laughing together with her marked the start of each day.
Today was silent. No one was there.
"Susaaaan~?"
Knowing there was no one to hear, Adolf still called out her name and looked around.
After searching the ground floor, he climbed the stairs to the mezzanine.
Adolf's face hardened. Something heavy pounded his chest. He quickly crossed the quiet hallway.
'N-no way!'
He opened the door.
His pupils shook.
Ran was there.
Beside him, Susan was embracing a young girl. Adolf's gaze focused on a man collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.
The man also looked this way.
His vacant, unfocused eyes weren't seeing the clownish old man but staring into utter darkness.
Still, the two gazed silently at each other for a while.
Adolf broke the silence in a trembling voice.
"... Bishop Zimarov."
Ran, hugging his knees, snapped his head up.
He made no sound. His trembling gaze turned to Zima.
"It's been a very long time since I heard that name. How have you been, Lisitsa?"
Lisitsa knelt. Washed clean by tears, his face was more visible than ever.
He had left Holy Church of his own will long ago, but he was a saint with a soul more noble than anyone.
"I have been doing my duty."
He said, looking at Ran. The young priest, not understanding the situation, looked back and forth between the two.
But he was safe, and that was all that mattered.
Lisitsa smiled with blood-red lips. His makeup, streaked by tears, was a mess.
"I suppose I shouldn't say this, but you've had a hard time."
At those words, Lisitsa sobbed even harder.
Zima gestured at Ran with his chin.
"Sorry, but could you leave me alone with this boy for a while?"
Even speaking was an ordeal for him.
Lisitsa barely stifled his sobs and left the room with Susan and Emma.
The narrow room fell silent again.
As Ran parted his lips to speak, Zima began.
"Go to Rel. Show this to Viola, and she will understand."
He took a small pendant from within his robes.
It was engraved with what looked like letters. Ran, taken aback, accepted it.
"The real Vessel is there too."
Ran's eyes widened. Zima forced something caught in his throat down with effort.
"See and decide for yourself. Don't be swayed by anyone."
"Decide? Decide what...?"
"If you truly believe sacrificing one life to save all is right, then offer the Vessel to the emperor."
With those words, Zima closed his eyes.
A gentle smile formed on his lips.
"As far as heretic's graves go, this one's pretty cozy."
The persistent smell of damp mildew lingered. Despite the early dawn, from far away the moans of women could be heard. Still, he looked at ease. Ran had never seen him look this way before.
"Corbinian, Eden? How long have you been planning this? Was Peco in on it too...?"
"Haha, Ran. Don't be so hard on a dying man. Just let me go in peace."
Zima laughed, then coughed up blood.
He struggled to prop his upper half up. His body, on the verge of collapse, leaned against the wall. He let out a sigh, and his eyes glimmered with that fierce light.
"When you broke through the capital's barrier array, did you see it all from inside? Everything the emperor and I said?"
He couldn't finish the sentence. Another torrent of bloody sputum spilled out. Still, he did not avert his unwavering gaze from Ran.
Ran nodded, yielding to those tenacious eyes.
"That's a relief. Saves me from having to talk long."
His breathing became increasingly rough. A rasping sound escaped his throat.
"It was true when I told the emperor that I hadn't decided until the end. Even after pushing all his sons toward death, honestly, I was confused. Would saving one child be an act of destroying the world with my own hands, an act of denying God...?"
He wanted to run away. It was too much to bear.
"That's why, at least for you, I wanted to stay out."
Ran blinked. It had been a long time since his eyelids had closed like that. He swallowed hard.
Zima's fading gaze flickered with one last glimmer, then faded again and again.
"... I can finally rest now."
Zima coughed repeatedly. Sensation left his limbs. His vision was now blurry. Random fragments of memories drifted up from his subconscious. Before long, they settled, and flowed away like a carousel of his life.
Zimarov, a priest full of academic passion.
The very first thing he did upon being appointed bishop was to enter Quersa's Forbidden Archive.
The Forbidden Archive. The compendium of human knowledge. The cradle of the world.
There, the Apocalypse rested.
Under the shadow of Lord Asriel.
"... I was afraid."
As a servant of God, would I meekly accept the world's end, or resist?
The path of bystander or heretic.
He chose the path of heretic.
Clutching the Apocalypse to his chest, he fled.
Thus, he became Zima the dog seller.
When he finally met a girl facing grand destiny, the resolve he'd barely maintained crumbled.
One for all.
Holy salvation; wrongful sacrifice.
He could not judge what was right.
In the end, he could not make a decision, right to the last.
"Cough, cough."
Zima struggled to raise his gaze. He wanted to see, just once more, at the end.
"Ran."
Looking at him was like looking at his own past. Ran was walking the same path, suffering the same pains.
"Shameless as it is, I leave the rest to you."
His vision went completely dark. Whether his eyes were closed, he could not tell.
Now other faces appeared vividly.
Familiar faces, each smiling at him.
"Ah, Peco. Yes, you were always that little. That's right."
"Sorry, and thank you. Corbinian."
"Eden. Heh. You still can't match me."
Zima murmured to himself for a long while.
Ran quietly listened to those familiar names at his side.
"To be honest, when Iscarang told me about you, I was glad."
"...?"
"I just was. Glad."
It was so very long ago.
From "Bishop Zimarov" to "Zima the dog seller."
A short and long life flashed by.
He was only human after all.
"Live, Cyrano."
That was the end.
His sight had died out long before. Now all the noises of the world faded. Ran's voice was among them.
The pain disappeared. Drowsiness was overwhelming.
He thought perhaps he would never wake again.
There were so many things he had wanted to say to the boy who resembled himself.
Zima found rest.
-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】