Silence was like snowfall.
By the time one noticed it, everything was already covered in white—without a sound, without warning.
Everything.
“…This… can’t be real.”
Yuru stared blankly at Clay standing before Beatrice, her expression vacant with disbelief.
“Brother…? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
Unlike her, frozen and barely breathing, Clay walked forward with a calm and composed expression.
“Were you looking for me?”
There was no rise or fall in Clay’s voice. No trace of emotion. Seeing that, Yuru whipped her head around and glared at Beatrice with fury.
“You! What did you do?!”
Clay was dead.
A dead man could not return by any normal means.
But imitation was possible. It wasn’t impossible to mock resurrection—one only had to raise the corpse and make it a puppet.
“You dared to use necromancy on my brother’s body?!”
『Necromancy?』
Beatrice sneered.
『If you’re that curious, why don’t you find out for yourself?』
“Yuru,” Clay said again, “Beatrice didn’t do anything like that.”
“!?”
Yuru looked at him, then shook her head violently, as if refusing to accept what was right in front of her.
“No… You’re not my brother.”
“I’m not?”
“You only look like him! It’s just the appearance—just that…!”
But then she flinched.
“…What?”
Her lips parted in stunned silence.
“No way…”
At the Blue Tower, which studied the color of pure mana, every mage was encouraged to develop the ability to distinguish most human energies.
And for one who had reached the pinnacle of the Tower—such as Yuru—there was no way she wouldn’t recognize it.
Even the color of a soul.
“How…?”
The soul inside Clay’s body was none other than Clay himself.
“How is this possible…!”
Terror overtook her eyes.
“He clearly died!”
She had been there.
She’d watched Clay hang. Watched the life drain from his body. Watched his soul evaporate.
He had gone to a place from which there was no return.
When that realization hit, it had crushed her chest like a stone, left her unable to even breathe.
“Sometimes… things happen that can’t be explained,” Clay looked at her calmly, “Like why I had to die. I still don’t understand it myself.”
He had devoted himself to the nation. No, to humanity. Gave everything—body and soul—for them.
And in return? A rope around his neck.
Even now, thinking about it only made him laugh dryly.
“Don’t make me laugh,” But Yuru refused to believe him, “I don’t know what you did, but you must’ve found a way to mimic even the color of a soul. That’s got to be easier than resurrecting someone.”
It was arrogance—believing that no one could achieve the perfect resurrection that even she, a genius, couldn’t perform.
Yuru believed too deeply in her own abilities.
“I’m the only one who can bring my brother back! Me!”
“Yuru.”
“Shut up!”
She cut off his words.
“You’re not my brother. My brother is dead. I’m going to bring him back—with the Crown Prince’s body!”
“If you had that resolve, you should’ve saved me from the gallows.”
“…What?”
“You already failed, Yuru.”
Clay’s voice remained calm.
“I no longer see you as the person you used to be. And since you’ll never bring me back, you’ll never get the chance to change that.”
“What are you saying…”
“Manticore,” A single word fell from his lips, “You said once you’d love to ride one if you could tame it.”
That was something only he and Yuru would know.
“You also cried once because the previous Tower Master assigned you an impossible task.”
Memories could be extracted from a corpse, sure, but only fragments, only images.
To recall details so precisely and carry a full conversation—no fake, no puppet could do that.
“If you want more proof, ask me anything. For instance…”
Clay looked at her with a frozen expression.
“Like how I died.”
Tia, his childhood friend, had asked Clay to surrender himself to ease the pressure from the Holy Alliance.
The plan had been to detain him temporarily, clear the misunderstanding, and then release him. But during the interrogation, so-called ‘evidence’ emerged that Clay was connected to the Demon King. The entire plan collapsed.
Trusting only in his childhood friend, Clay had willingly bound his magic and allowed himself to be arrested. But then came the torture—at the hands of priests and Guardian Knights dispatched by the Holy Alliance.
That pain could only be described by the one who endured it.
“Shall I remind you?” Clay’s voice sharpened, “None of you came to see me. Not even once.”
Treason against humanity—being in league with the Demon King—was the gravest crime on the continent.
His former comrades had abandoned him to avoid being tainted by that accusation.
“No one even tried to hear my side. Let me ask—did you even read the letters I sent?”
“…”
“You didn’t. Of course not. Wouldn’t want to leave any trace of contact.”
He knew exactly why they’d done it.
But for someone who had devoted everything to them, it had been too cruel.
“At the very least, I wanted to believe my comrades would stand by me.”
Trapped in a cell, Clay hadn’t been able to protest. He was treated like a criminal. Until the day he saw the sun again—only to have it be the last thing he saw.
“A joke…?”
Clay gave a hollow chuckle.
“You say you won’t believe me?”
That was laughable.
“Fine. Don’t believe me.”
His eyes turned cold.
“I came here to say that.”
He hadn’t come because he wanted to see Yuru.
He had come to deliver those words.
“I don’t believe in you either.”
He no longer needed belief that demanded justification.
“Yuru, stop this.”
He declared firmly.
“I’m not going to put up with your madness anymore.”
If she kept this up—if she insisted on bringing him back—the Holy Alliance’s eyes would return to them.
“I came because you’ve been recklessly burning through your mana.”
No matter how powerful a mage, using Grand Magic continuously would inevitably lead to exhaustion.
And she was traveling without a single frontline fighter. An easy target, really.
“…Are you really my brother?”
Despite the murderous intent emanating from him, she muttered as if in a daze—after he spoke words only she could know.
“Did you really come back…?”
“Yes. And it has nothing to do with you.”
Clay raised his hand.
“I’m going to put you down here. Before you become an even greater threat.”
What she was doing here didn’t concern him.
Even if it was all for his sake—it changed nothing.
It was too late.
The Hero was already dead.
“Beatrice.”
Clay turned to look at her.
“I’ll take Neville. Handle Yuru.”
『Are you sure?』
“Don’t worry. Just be quick. If this drags on too long, it’ll be harder for us to leave.”
As the former Hero, Clay had memorized as much terrain data as possible to protect humanity.
That was how they’d made it here.
Thanks to Yuru’s rampage in Marfane, all eyes were focused there.
This canyon stretching along the Marfane-Yaphenon border had always been poorly guarded.
The two nations, after all, were allied under Krata. There was nothing of interest here either.
Because of that, Clay had been able to smuggle Beatrice—disguised in human form—through safely.
Even Beatrice had been impressed by his memory of terrain.
『As you wish.』
Though she had worried that Clay might waver upon facing Yuru directly, his resolve was so firm it left no room for doubt.
She decided to honor his will.
He had been more sincere than anyone in becoming a Hero, and so now—he held the terrifying potential to bring humanity to its knees.
『Go, Clay. I’ll be your flame.』
Beatrice took to the sky.
Clay bolted toward Neville.
“!”
Yuru, still dazed in confusion, instinctively turned toward him. But—
Boom!
A fireball from Beatrice struck the ground before she could move, exploding with thunderous force.
“Kh!”
Thrown back by the shockwave and debris, Yuru tumbled across the ground.
Meanwhile, Clay reached Neville.
“Neville, are you alright?”
“H-Hero…”
“We’re short on time, so let me say one thing in advance.”
Clay’s expression turned cold.
“Don’t call me that again.”
Boom!
Beatrice unleashed a storm of fire toward Yuru without hesitation.
“Urgh…!”
Yuru gritted her teeth, enduring the heat seeping into her flesh.
“Beatrice…!”
She’d seen Clay.
And it was the real Clay—memories intact.
Even if she tried to deny it, even if she wanted to believe he was a puppet—it wasn’t a fake.
Even the color of his soul hadn’t changed.
“Out of the way!”
That was the real him.
She knew that for certain now.
It wasn’t a fake.
“Give him back to me!”
But whether it was the trauma of his execution, or some trickery by Beatrice—Clay had lost his identity as a Hero.
That… she couldn’t accept.
Even if he said they weren’t comrades anymore—even if he wanted to kill her—
“I’ll take him back!”
If she could bring him back, maybe… just maybe…
—Kzzzt!
Yuru raised a wall of earth.
Beatrice’s fireball slammed into it and dissipated.
“Brother!”
She stood behind the wall, looking toward Clay.
“Come here!”
She reached out her hand.
“You’re being deceived! Something’s wrong with you after dying and coming back!”
Her eyes were filled with desperation.
“If you’re really my brother, come here! I’ll fix everything! I’ll really do it!”
She had regretted not saving him more than anything.
“I don’t care if I become a heretic! I’ll stay by your side! Don’t fall for that witch’s lies!”
Beatrice had to be using him—that much, Yuru was certain.
“So please—”
But Clay didn’t even glance at her.
He lifted Neville and turned back to Beatrice.
“Brother…?”
Yuru’s vacant gaze followed his retreating back.
“Brother!”
Boom!
A massive fireball struck down from Beatrice.
The earthen wall crumbled, and Yuru’s world went black.
(End of Chapter)