—Life is just a string of disappointments.
—Isn’t it, Hero?
“...!”
The voice of the Demon King brushed through Clay’s dream. He jolted awake.
“Ugh…”
His head throbbed. What had just happened?
As he sifted through his memories, the image of Beatrice offering him food surfaced—him finally giving in to hunger and accepting it.
He remembered eating, asking her where she had disappeared to all this time, and then, his vision had grown hazy.
He must have lost consciousness. And now, here he was.
“Damn it.”
It had been a trap after all. No wonder that memory of the Demon King’s words had resurfaced.
As he shifted slightly, Clay froze.
“...Huh?”
It was soft. His head wasn’t resting on the ground.
Turning reflexively, he saw folds of a skirt beneath him.
“Wh-what!”
Startled, Clay sprang up—only to bang his forehead.
“Ugh!”
“You’re still as careless as ever,” came a calm voice.
The head he’d bumped into belonged to none other than Beatrice, who had been looking down at him the whole time.
Unlike him, she looked entirely unfazed.
“You probably haven’t fully recovered yet. Lie down a bit longer.”
“What did you do to me?”
“You had branded yourself to weaken the priests’ seals, right? Countering poison with poison often leads to side effects. Since your body was already unstable, I had no choice but to put you to sleep to rebalance it.”
“You… you mean you helped me recover?”
“I didn’t undo the priestly seals, so it’s not really recovery. But rest a bit more and you’ll feel a lot better.”
Clay circulated his mana to examine his body.
This can’t be…
She was telling the truth. It was much easier to move his mana now.
The restrictions hadn’t been completely lifted, but he could now muster a decent level of combat ability—enough to handle at least a mid-level monster.
“Why…”
“Why?” Beatrice tilted her head, smiling faintly, “Because I pitied you.”
“What?” Clay’s expression twisted, “You pitied me?”
“Yes. You remind me of the Demon King.”
Clay scowled, “I’m nothing like him.”
“Clay,” she said softly, “Can you say for certain that there’s no darkness in your heart right now?”
“What… are you talking about?”
“Do you think the Demon King was born a calamity?”
Her question left Clay speechless. After a moment, he finally managed a retort.
“If you’re trying to justify him, then save it.”
“I’m not trying to justify anything. I just wanted to say… sometimes, people are just pitiable,” Beatrice gently placed her hand on Clay’s forehead.
“H-Hey, what are you doing?”
“It probably hurts,” She brushed the spot where he’d bumped heads with her, and just like that, the pain vanished, “I can manipulate many elements as a Dragonoid, but I’ve never been good with healing. I can’t erase those seals. This is all I can do.”
Even as she helped him, she apologized.
Clay’s expression wavered.
“What… are you?”
His trusted comrades had abandoned him.
And now, a woman who had once been his sworn enemy was sitting at his side, helping him.
“Why are you doing this?”
He couldn’t understand it. It felt like his entire worldview had been flipped upside down.
“Clay.”
Beatrice spoke quietly.
“Do you know why I joined the Demon King’s army?”
Clay didn’t answer.
He had assumed she was simply evil—he’d never once thought about her reasons.
“I used to watch a certain man’s journey. He was a brilliant demon. If he hadn’t lost his lover while dreaming of love with a human, he might’ve lived a peaceful life.”
She began telling a story with no clear beginning.
“Humans despised demons. And they equally despised humans who loved demons. He lost his lover, and his talent awakened in… another direction.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“There’s no need for you to know who it was. I just wanted to say—I was disappointed too.”
—Life is just a string of disappointments.
“My kin were used as weapons of war and driven to extinction. I didn’t react… until I saw it happen right beside me. And even after ages of living, I realized I was still just a bundle of raw emotion.”
“You’ve done things that can never be forgiven.”
“I don’t intend to be forgiven, Clay.”
Her voice was calm as she whispered, “I just want to tell you—everyone has weak moments. Everyone has regrets they didn’t expect.”
She covered Clay’s eyes with her hand.
In the darkness, all he could hear was her voice.
“Clay… would you believe me if I said I regret it?”
“What?”
“Today, I was going to burn myself for the last time.”
She had stared blankly into the fire.
That flame—it hadn’t been just any campfire.
It was the Hellfire, the Primordial Flame—capable of reducing even someone like her to ash.
The fire crackling not far from them now was merely a fragment of that hell-born blaze.
“It took me ages just to prepare the last piece of kindling needed to light that flame. I was going to place it today. But then, I saw you.”
“You…”
“Clay. Can I ask you something?”
She removed her hand from his eyes.
And when their eyes met, she held a sorrow so vast, even a Dragonoid who had lived for countless ages couldn’t contain it.
“Can I go now?”
Beatrice was asking him… if she could walk into the fire.
“If I’ve done everything you need from me… I’ll be the final log.”
She gently helped Clay to his feet. As he rose from her warm lap, only the surrounding fire offered him any remaining warmth.
“Thank you, Clay. I’m glad someone could witness my end.”
She appointed him her final witness without permission and stood up.
“The journey ahead might be rough, but live. You still have the right to. Someday, you’ll realize that was the most important thing.”
With that, Beatrice walked toward the fire. Clay just stood there, watching her.
Just like she had watched the fire alone before.
Crackle.
The flames danced like the beating of Clay’s heart.
Fwoosh.
The heat of the fire licked his cheeks.
Gurgle.
He suddenly felt nauseous, like he was trapped in a bad dream. The headache he thought had passed returned with a vengeance.
“…”
Clay stood up—just like she had.
And slowly—no, with increasing speed—he chased after her.
Fwoom.
Just before she stepped into the Primordial Flame, he grabbed her and pulled her back.
The fire grazed the air where she’d stood.
“Not yet.”
Beatrice’s eyes widened as Clay spoke the first words that leapt out of his mouth—words he hadn’t even thought through.
“You haven’t finished what you need to do yet.”
He didn’t even know what he was saying. His expression looked ready to fall apart.
“I… I need someone who’ll watch over me, too.”
The person he had trusted most had shut her eyes as he died. She couldn’t even bear the weight of what she’d done to him.
He was lonely.
Dying with that bitterness and despair, alone—was too much to bear.
“You don’t need permission to live.”
All he needed was the warmth he had felt earlier. His sins, his burdens—they had already been ignored when he was executed.
His beliefs as a Hero had long since vanished with his final breath.
“Beatrice… I’m not going to die.”
A new fire had begun to burn inside him.
“So you just—stay alive, too.”
“I…”
“Don’t seek forgiveness. I’m not going to, either.”
He spoke softly.
“Teach me how to live without being forgiven.”
It was a road he had never walked before.
“Hate it, if you must.”
He gripped her arm tightly.
“Otherwise, I’ll be the final log.”
Beatrice, frozen where she stood, exhaled as if she had been holding her breath.
“You must’ve come back to life for a reason, because you have that right.”
“Rights are just another kind of Brand.”
Something forced upon a life by design.
“Then I’d rather regret it.”
Clay’s grip on her hand loosened. He lowered his head, unable to contain the grief boiling inside him.
Beatrice said nothing as she watched him.
Time passed in silence.
And just when she finally opened her mouth to speak—
“—There they are!”
Voices rang out from the top of the mound.
Several knights of Ezer had found them.
(End of Chapter)