Chapter 32: Returnees Do Not Return (4)
The capital, Naflansee.
The villa of the House of Orléans.
[The Blue Tail Magic Brigade of the Mystriel family has gathered in the Naflansee administrative district. They are deploying defensive spells towards the main institutions. No members of the Mystriel family have been spotted.]
[Inside the catacomb of the Naflansee Grand Cathedral, a large-scale ritual is being performed. Five Evangelists have been dispatched from the Papal States. The holy relics needed to deploy the barrier have also arrived.]
[The Farenheit family has urgently dispatched the Dawn Moon Knights. While protecting the slums of Naflansee, they are leading the evacuation procession. The head of the family, Gerhard von Farenheit, is personally commanding them.]
The autumn wind tickled the hem of Iris's dress.
While the golems were reporting the surveillance status with their glinting eyes, a quill pen floating in the air was writing a report without rest. The scale of the military forces mobilized by each power that made up the capital, the direction of their strategy, and the prioritized circumstances were being recorded.
‘Teleportation magic…….’
Iris sat on the windowsill. She lit a match with a cigarette in her mouth. The wavering smoke. Holding it in, she looked back at the floating island. A satisfied moisture welled up in Iris's light pink eyes.
‘How interesting.’
A situation where a group of warships of unknown origin surrounded CIAR.
The standoff with the Capital Defense Air Force was continuing.
[Grand Duke Marchand has arrived at the imperial palace. He is in possession of an artifact protected by eight layers of concealment spells. It seems he intends to offer it to His Majesty the Emperor.]
I wonder.
What are they all hiding?
Iris stretched. The sky was still, but the ground was busy. Those who sought to achieve merit stepped forward, and those who had been hiding their cards drew back their ironclad curtains. There were also those who were running away. It was a perfect opportunity to grasp the current status of the powers that made up the capital.
‘By the way…….’
Iris made a sunshade with her hand.
‘It should be about time.’
The skies of the capital.
At the moment Iris smiled, staring at it,
──Kwaang!
A loud roar that shook the empty air. The scale was different from the firing sound of a mere cannonball. It seemed as if a sharp streak of light had decorated the sky, but she couldn't be sure. It was a skill that was difficult for even Iris to follow with her eyes.
It had all happened in an instant. Not only the warships that had been surrounding CIAR, but even the thick dark clouds had scattered in the blink of an eye. As if swept away by the hand of a main god.
The remnants of the crumbling warships.
They scattered like flower petals steeped in flames.
‘Oh dear, couldn't you have cut them a little more finely.’
Iris bit her thumb.
‘The capital is in danger, Abel.’
Eudeuk, and.
The sound of flesh being crushed.
“Bring me paper. Anything will do.”
Iris commanded, looking back at the golem.
One of the group, the golem that had been reporting with its lips moving, moved. A book from the bookshelf. It tore a page from inside it and held it out to Iris.
“Good. Focus again.”
[Understood, Your Highness.]
Iris tilted her thumb towards the page. The drops of blood that fell in dots stained the letters. And so, a holy relic was completed.
A holy relic was usually made through long prayer, but if one used the blood of a Saintess, it could be mass-produced without difficulty. The moment the blood seeped in, even a scrap of paper was refined into a holy relic.
[The cast of the Blue Tail Magic Brigade has been interrupted. The murmuring of the mages spreads. While the defensive spell is being dismantled, the command to prepare for the falling debris follows.]
[The catacomb of the Naflansee Grand Cathedral, the ritual has been stopped. It seems to be due to the commotion caused by the explosion. The screams of the clerics echo, and the holy relic falls below the altar.]
[The Dawn Moon Knights, staring at the skies of the capital, are engulfed in astonishment. The horses are running wild and the cavalrymen are tumbling in the mud. The commotion of the evacuation procession is intensifying.]
Iris walked on with her back to the window.
She spread out the page that had become a holy relic on the desk. And so, the desk became an altar.
A crushed cigarette beside the page. That substituted for the pillar of a cathedral. A matchbox for a cleric. Pomegranate seeds for an offering. A candle for a lantern. The voices of the golems for a prayer. Iris substituted the procedures of the ritual with the things scattered around.
<──I declare.>
The only thing missing was the cast. Iris closed her eyes.
She whispered towards the domain of the Pantheon with her hands clasped.
<The God of the Underworld shall close the underworld, the God of Fate shall bestow fate, as the God of Oblivion permits oblivion, the God of War declares the end of war.>
It was not a sentence recorded in the scriptures. In the first place, a single cast was directed at a single main god. Only a Saintess could combine the five domains of divine magic. Iris was simultaneously borrowing the powers of the five main gods.
<O Mother God.>
Iris's gaze narrowed.
A halo like a crown, spreading above her head. The brilliance of the Pantheon began to illuminate Iris.
<……Look down upon this land.>
And so, silence.
The golems all closed their mouths. The mana reactors attached to their chests blinked in dots, and soon, they began to whisper in an orderly tone.
[The Blue Tail Magic Brigade has fallen silent.]
[The catacomb of the Naflansee Grand Cathedral, the commotion has ceased.]
[The Dawn Moon Knights have stopped their movements.]
[A boy who was mixed in with the evacuation procession lifts his head. He stares at the sky and rubs his eyes, then pulls on his mother's collar and whispers…….]
[──Mom, it seems the main gods have come.]
Finally, a swirling scent of flowers.
Iris reached out her hand towards the window. A rose petal, landing on her palm. She stroked it and looked at a distant place.
The remnants of the warships that had been flooding from the skies of the capital. The hail of steel that had been engulfed in flames had turned into rose petals and was scattering.
‘How romantic, the main gods are.’
Iris brushed off the rose petal. She let out a tired breath and grasped the war situation. A command ship, left alone in the empty air. That had to be dealt with by Abel. The engagement must have begun by now. The enemy commander must not be handed over to the Capital Defense Air Force. Iris was planning to interrogate him herself.
“Send a letter to the Capital Defense Air Force.”
Iris said, putting a cigarette to her lips.
“Prohibit engagement with the enemy forces. Announce that a knight of the House of Orléans has entered the command ship. The Capital Defense Air Force will prioritize the protection of Cia-Harphe Academy. That should be enough.”
This should be fine, right, Abel.
I will leave the rest to you.
Muttering so, Iris picked up a matchbox.
Just as she was about to strike the head of the match against the friction surface,
“I……, ri……, s…….”
A small voice was heard.
“Is……, everything alright now……?”
Iris's eyes widened for a moment, then she clenched her teeth and crumpled the match. A cigarette rolling on the marble floor. Iris ran to the bed and bent down. A woman, prolonging her life through numerous magic nets and a great deal of medical equipment, was lying on the bed.
She was a woman like a weathered porcelain doll. Pasty skin, lusterless eyes. Her crimson hair had been withered for a long time. Though her body was small, as if she had just passed her coming-of-age, her limbs, which had not moved for a long time, were stiff like an old person's.
And above all, the woman's body was covered in wounds.
They were not external wounds, but internal wounds. The magic in her body had burst out.
“Iris……”
The woman reached out her hand to Iris.
“My students……, are they safe……?”
“Of course.”
Iris took the woman's hand in hers.
At the same time, a flurry of light seeped into Iris's hand.
The wounds that made up the woman's body were transferred to Iris.
To transfer another's wounds to oneself. It was the miracle of a Saintess that Iris had been revealed by the main gods.
“No one died. There are some injured children, but they're all fine. They'll be treated without any problems. So you don't have to worry. It's all thanks to you.”
……Stanzi, and.
Iris called the woman by her nickname.
Konstanze von Theresia. The Vice President of CIAR. A young sage made up of 99 clones and 1 main body. A 7th-rank mage employed in a teaching position even though she had obtained the qualification to be appointed as a magic tower master. And Iris's childhood friend.
Only Iris knew.
The fact that her childhood friend's private spell had failed.
The Konstanze who was active as the Vice President of CIAR was also a fake. Just a clone who believed herself to be the main body. The truth that the real Konstanze was prolonging her life under the protection of the House of Orléans, shouldering the side effects of the private spell.
“To think everyone is safe……”
Konstanze's gaze curved towards the empty air.
After confirming the safety of the students she had never even met, whose faces she didn't even know,
“……What a relief.”
Konstanze smiled and closed her eyes.
She fell into a long sleep.
* * *
- Infantry, get down!
A rough command shot up from the gap in the steam pipe.
The soldiers, hiding their bodies behind cover. The muzzles of their guns were cast beyond it. A pile of Muskets fixed on bipods. The man who had been walking from beyond the long gun barrels was Abel, gripping his beloved sword.
- Fire!
Tadang──!
A whirling firing sound.
Abel did not delay. He ran towards the bullets. Ting, ting, ting. The blossoming of a powerless metallic sound. He had deflected the live ammunition by tilting the guard of his beloved sword.
- Infantry, charge!
- Uooo!
A huge soldier charged at Abel. The spearhead, descending with great momentum. Abel supported the hilt with his right hand, then pushed away the spear shaft by fixing the blade with his left hand.
- Excellent swordsmanship! Amazing!
A smile spread across the soldier's lips. Without a sliver of hesitation, he was purely admiring Abel's skill.
Abel did not reply. After piercing the soldier's neck with his beloved sword, he cut upwards and split his head.
──Paseok!
The soldier's bisected face. It was full of only a joyous smile.
- Do you see! That man is our adversary!
- My blood is finally boiling!
- If only I had met such a skilled person in the Mirror War!
Abel moved forward without hesitation.
No one could be Abel's match. A soldier who had run at him with a shield and sword. He thrust his beloved sword into his thigh. A dwarf who was swinging an axe with great momentum. He picked up the shield that had fallen to the ground and struck the back of his head. A man who had leaped at him with a longsword. He grabbed his hand and let his speed flow away, then cut his throat.
──Chwarak!
A bloodstain, scribbled on the ground. While the man with the cut throat was slumping down, Abel threw the longsword he had been holding.
- Eugeuk!
A shooter who had been loading his matchlock.
He was pierced through the neck by the longsword and fell down.
At the moment the shooters were about to check on their dead comrade,
<God of War, open your mouth.>
Abel reached out his hand towards the remaining forces.
A transparent external force extending from his hand. The front line collapsed. The soldiers were pushed away by an unknown wave and tumbled down.
It was the result of the activation of the 4th chapter of the War Theory, ‘Battlefield Roar’.
“I have something to ask.”
Abel said, finishing off the fallen soldiers. One by one, calmly, Abel pierced the enemy soldiers' necks and repeated the confirmation kill. The only remaining force was the man who had been commanding the squad. Abel stood facing him.
“……Why are you happy.”
Abel's question was directed at the man. The man, who had been panting, leaning against the wall, soon flashed a smile drenched in ecstasy.
“Isn't it obvious. How long I have waited for today.”
The man licked his lips.
A thick body fluid was buried in his voice.
“You must know too? Nameless sir, refrain from acting demure. Haven't you run wild like this. If our battle were a ballet, you would have been the supreme ballerina. It was truly elegant. As expected……”
Isn't that right.
It's beautiful. War is truly beautiful.
The man muttered so.
‘He's mad.’
Abel diagnosed with a calm expression. This man is mad. It wasn't just the man. Smiles, smiles, smiles. Corpses with smiles on their faces were strewn everywhere. Throughout the engagement after infiltrating the command ship, all the forces had faced Abel with a smile and had drawn their last breath with a smile.
Victory and defeat are meaningless.
As the engagement is repeated, the justification is bound to become faint.
To kill someone. That alone is good.
It's fine to be killed. Because that is also a process of war.
Abel had realized their intentions. They were truly nothing short of war fanatics.
“Where is the commander.”
“I don't know. It hasn't been long since we met.”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“But more than that……”
That doesn't matter, so……, and.
The man whispered, hugging Abel's calf.
“Hurry and kill me. You're not thinking of letting me live, are you? Don't do that. I'd be disappointed. How about it……, are you going to stab my heart? Or are you going to cut my throat? Magic isn't bad either. You seem to be a Holy Knight……, how about you try using a spell that burns evil spirits on me?”
No, no.
The man shook his head.
“The warships that surrounded CIAR……, you got rid of them, right? You must have used Aura. It's impossible without Aura. A Holy Knight who has achieved Aura……, is a rare adversary. So I ask you. Please, with your Aura, me……”
──Pajit.
Abel stabbed the man's heart.
It was a light motion. The man, who had been choking and pouring out blood, fell to the side. His red-stained smile touched the ground and distorted.
‘These people are…….’
Abel thought, looking around.
‘Not the remnants of the 2nd Prince.’
Beyond the blackish-gray smoke that had spread from the combustion of gunpowder, the pile of corpses were all wearing uniforms without exception. The crests engraved on their chests were all different. Including the crest used by the 2nd Prince's army, they were stained with the crests of the many princes who had clashed during the Mirror War.
“──Are you satisfied.”
At that moment, a voice from behind Abel.
It was familiar. No, it was different.
“I knew you would come. I've prepared a banquet of sorts, but I don't know if it suited your palate.”
Inside the warship, entangled with steam pipes, a man in a pure white uniform stood in the shadows.
A face that seemed to have just passed thirty. He was a man with brown hair grown long like a beast's mane. The man's attire was none other than that of a Holy Knight. The uniform bestowed upon a Holy Knight of the Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy. The round crest attached to the man's chest stood out.
“It's a pleasure to meet you for the first time.”
The man saluted with an exaggerated gesture.
“No. I wonder if we've met a few times? I was also once affiliated with the Papacy. Though I am a discharged soldier, we might have fought with our backs to each other in the Mirror War……”
“Cut the jokes, Felix Christian.”
Abel's blackish-blue eyes flashed.
“You've become younger since I last saw you. Are you the commander.”
“Well, well.”
Felix Christian.
No, the nameless Holy Knight let out a sigh.
“There's a limit to being clueless. What's the harm in pretending to be surprised? You're not a block of wood. It's no fun fighting a war if you're that calm.”
Abel…….
Professor Abel Argento, and.
Felix recited, with his eyes narrowed.
“You're right. I am the commander. Not only those who followed the 2nd Prince Cherkio Numeros, but I also gathered those who longed for the Mirror War and formed a legion. I was quite surprised. To think I gathered dozens of warships, and hundreds of madmen, only to be defeated so futilely.”
A pity. A real pity.
Felix muttered so.
“I've been waiting all along. For the preemptive strike of the Capital Defense Air Force. Will they prioritize the children, or will they prioritize the capital……, such worries are only possible on the battlefield.”
“How unfortunate. CIAR is safe, and you lot couldn't kill a single person.”
“Oh dear, so what about it?”
Felix brushed back his hair.
“I was taken aback. But it doesn't matter. Miracles are common on the battlefield, aren't they? Our objective is just the reenactment of war, nothing more.”
“……I knew you had a hand in the commotion.”
Abel shook his beloved sword.
A streak of blood was engraved on the wall.
“The name Felix Christian, as well as the resume stating you were a former officer, were lies. But it was unexpected. I didn't expect you to be a Holy Knight. And you have a rather young face. Is that your original appearance.”
“No, you're wrong.”
A slick smile spread across Felix's lips.
“It was a bit of a complicated process. To secure the skies of the capital, I had to take CIAR hostage, and for that, I needed to fabricate an identity and infiltrate. I had to wait for an opening. And above all, they requested inside information on CIAR. The ones who supported us, I mean.”
“You mean the group made up of apostates.”
“Right on.”
Felix clapped his hands.
“I didn't know you had noticed that too. How amazing.”
In any case……, and.
Felix continued, stroking his chin.
“You can't leave any openings, can you? I aged myself in case there was someone who knew my face. Wasn't it perfect? It was thanks to taking a few Forbidden Medicines.”
A Forbidden Medicine was, strictly speaking, a potent poison.
Even if one took a small effective dose, severe side effects would be waiting. A knight who roamed the battlefield, relying on a forbidden medicine with a stimulating effect, would sometimes choose suicide after suffering from incurable insomnia.
Felix's side effects would be exceptionally severe. If it was a drug that could cause aging by manipulating the time in his body, it was as if a conclusion equivalent to death was foretold.
“You……”
Abel narrowed his eyes.
He scanned Felix's body up and down.
“Are you getting younger due to the side effects.”
“You got it right. Well now, I can't seem to hide anything.”
Felix laughed, baring his teeth.
“But let's get the words right. I'm not getting younger. I'm regressing.”
The time aged through the forbidden medicine returns. With an acceleration as if a tightly stretched rubber band were to snap. It was not something Felix could control himself. In the short time they had a conversation, Felix's face had become as young as Abel's age.
“So, Abel Argento, there's not much time.”
Felix drew his sword.
He gripped the hilt and stared at Abel.
“If I stay like this, I'll become a newborn baby. What will I become after that? I don't even want to imagine. But it was something I was prepared for. Because I will draw my last breath here today, in the middle of a battlefield, anyway.”
Do you understand, Abel.
It's war.
Let's have a war.
Felix declared, glaring at Abel.
“I'm tired of pacing around like a dog holding its pee! Don't make me wait! I've been looking forward to this since the moment I met you! Try and kill me right now!”
A sharpness entered Felix's gaze.
Abel's form was captured in his sharply honed eyes. A duel with a Sword Saint. Felix was only thinking about that.
A madness that had derailed from gain and loss, victory and defeat, and life and death, soared towards Abel.
“……How unfortunate.”
And so, Abel let out a sigh.
“You will die in a prison, not on a battlefield. My objective is ultimately just to capture the commander alive. I have no intention of killing you.”
Please capture the commander alive if possible.
Because there are many things to interrogate him about.
Abel recalled Iris's instructions.
“But……”
At that moment, a margin-white sheath that wrapped around the worn blade.
“If war games are your hobby, I'll play along for a while.”
Abel righted his beloved sword.
Amidst the Aura, which was flickering translucently,
Abel's blackish-blue eyes, as deep as a mire, were reflected.
A silence that settled between the two.
It was torn apart by a whirling sword strike.