novelraw Chapter 140 : Chapter 140
Chapter 140 : Chapter 140
Chapter 140: Mixed Colors (4)
“Ernst.”
RATTLE, it went.
The sound of ornaments tangling.
“What is going on?”
In the middle of the Temple of Cthanid, Eleanor walked busily and looked around. It was to check the faces of the residents. According to what Ernst communicated, the evacuation was complete. The residents excluding Pnakotic had just arrived at the temple. Only, she couldn't believe it. Because she couldn't be relieved, she checked the headcount again.
“Really?”
Eleanor's brows narrowed.
The windows provided in the temple were too small. In addition, they were high.
Small glass windows were merely provided on the ceiling. Because the damn Cthanid resides in the deep sea, was it said to be a structure to create an underwater environment? It's absurd.
Eleanor sighed.
“Don't swear. I know it's a lie.”
Eleanor's gaze headed toward the center of the temple.
Numerous eyes, and bundles of tentacles. In addition, an appearance resembling a mollusk. Eleanor glared at the statue of Cthanid.
“Not only your words, I don't believe anything.”
“Quiet.”
Eleanor inhaled a breath.
Narrowing her eyes, she checked the residents.
- Just endure a little. It will be over soon.
- Is that true? I……, I don't really know. Whether outsiders can end all of this…….
- But can we, really live?
- What kind of talk is that! Look at that statue. It is evidence that our lives were toyed with. Even now, we must…….
- Our ancestors made that. Just until a few days ago, didn't we all look up to the Sea God.
- That is…….
Residents were mixed regardless of age and gender.
It's really funny. Rummaging through her hem, Eleanor thought. The Miko's attire was wrapping Eleanor's body. A village polluted while worshiping monsters, committing human sacrifice, and turning that into a religion. Is there another place as messy as this? Eleanor shook her head. Everything seemed like a farce.
“──Everyone.”
It wasn't different just because it was Eleanor.
There would be no need to equip the Miko's attire, but the reason she ends up insisting on it must be because of custom.
“Everyone rejoice.”
The residents' gazes concentrated on Eleanor.
Just as the Sea God Cthanid is a lie, the Miko Eleanor also did not exist. Eleanor Portsmouth is an orphan. Just a child brought from outside the village. While all residents thought so, they listened to Eleanor's words without knowing why.
Just as they have always done.
“They say the number of monsters is smaller than thought.”
Eleanor recited a bluff.
Just as she has always done.
“We will be safe.”
Believe.
Please believe me.
I will swear to you all.
Eleanor muttered like that.
“……Although our belief would have always been wrong.”
* * *
Demian's voice came through.
You've got to be kidding. Ernst clicked his tongue. Even a hungry dog would be better at lying than Demian. They were only exchanging voices through a communication spell, but Demian's voice penetrating his mind lacked strength. His appearance must be a mess. It was obvious without looking. The data displayed on the Tactical Controller was being updated.
‘Is your optic nerve safe.’
‘You probably tried to save a resident.’
‘Bullshit.’
There's a limit to bluffing.
Ernst sighed.
He could grasp the truth without difficulty. The Tactical Controller was displaying the movements of each troop. Demian's physical information was also attached. One eye was damaged, and his divine power was decreasing.
“Wait a little.”
Ernst closed his eyes.
Halos were forming on his two hands resting on the Tactical Controller.
It was because he was injecting divine power.
“Because I will use healing magic.”
Ernst's eyes opened.
He looked down at the Tactical Controller with narrowed eyes.
Demian Fernando von Farenheit. The red symbol labeled as such was moving busily. Black symbols disappearing in response. Demian was slaughtering Banshees one after another.
Try to concentrate.
Demian's voice echoed.
Is he noticing.
Holding a sneer, Ernst thought.
Ernst's divine power was on the verge of exhaustion. Since he was bestowing spells toward the vigilantes. He was mobilizing everything like healing magic and protection magic.
‘Right, it must be so.’
He would know even without seeing directly.
Demian was sufficiently guessing Ernst's condition. Just as much as Ernst could easily imagine Demian's situation.
Good grief. Ernst chewed his lower lip. The corners of his mouth were colored purple. His complexion had long become pale. Chills struck him occasionally. It was an adverse reaction due to pouring out divine power in a short time.
‘……It's a waste.’
Ernst knew.
That he shouldn't take care of the vigilantes this much.
At best, they were bullet sponges. Merely walls made of blood and flesh. There was nothing to expect regarding combat power, and it was enough to make them endure appropriately and complete the war of attrition. What did it matter how many of them died. If it was to save the majority of residents, he shouldn't be agitated by the deaths of a few. Therefore……,
‘This strategy is messed up.’
It was wrong from beginning to end.
Demian shouldn't have fought at the forefront. While protecting Portsmouth, it became a situation where Demian was even protecting the vigilantes.
Ernst's divine power shouldn't have been wasted. Since everyone was dying anyway, for what sake was he bestowing spells and sitting there.
‘I know everything. I know, but…….’
Ernst lowered his head.
Putting strength into his eyes, he examined the Tactical Controller.
Screams and scars, death and barbarism. Such naked aspects couldn't be the essence of the battlefield.
Rather, it would be based on reason. Symbols and numbers, letters and cynicism. The Tactical Controller filling Ernst's vision was the very essence. The Tactical Controller spread out like a game board was counting lives. Infinitely dryly.
‘I really hate it.’
Thus, it was even more disgusting.
Because there was no fresh blood, because there was no stench of corpses.
Therefore, nausea surged up instead.
‘Grandma, you…….’
Ernst stared straight ahead.
He recalled his grandmother, Brunhilde von Tresckow.
The afterimage of a sick woman encroached by a malignant tumor. He placed her beyond the Tactical Controller. Just as always, as if sitting facing a table in his grandmother's bedroom.
“Just how did you…….”
Ernst's lips twitched.
Squeezing out from his mouth covered with sour water, he asked.
“……How did you endure.”
This unbearably,
Infinitely empty battlefield.
The vast table placed between us.
* * *
I hear you, Demian thought.
Half of his vision was getting wet with red.
He didn't mind. Sharpening other senses was enough. For example, the Banshees' cries. He easily cut down Banshees rushing while crying wildly. After grabbing a Banshee falling toward him and throwing it away, Demian took a step.
No, he failed.
Demian missed his step.
His ankle was sprained and he collapsed just like that.
<……Strictly for the sake of strategy.>
CRUNCH, it went.
Demian drove the blade into the sandy beach. While bending one knee and sitting, he examined the treasured sword. While the hand grasping the hilt trembled, the Banshee's bodily fluid covering the blade was unusual.
Is it corroding.
Panting for breath, Demian thought.
Here and there on the blade were damaged. It seemed to have melted down due to the Banshee's bodily fluid. Did he swing it without even knowing that. As if handling an iron club, not a sword.
<……That person is actually my grandma.>
Haha, it went.
Demian burst into laughter.
Inwardly, he thought. That it sounds like a low-quality joke. To think he fought the battle without even knowing the blade was damaged.
No, that Altria Amnesia is Ernst's grandmother. Unlike Altria Amnesia who used to fabricate the path of a romantic knight, Brunhilde von Tresckow should have gained fame as a cool-headed commander.
There was no fantasy to be shattered.
Demian wiped his eye area with the back of his hand. A stinging pain was felt. After checking the blood on the back of his hand, he examined the front. Amidst metallic sounds echoing from all directions, a flock of Banshees was approaching with flashing eyes.
Demian raised his body.
CRACK, it went. An unpleasant sound was heard.
Did a bone break somewhere? Even so, there was no time to leisurely chant. He could endure pain of this degree sufficiently.
Was that so.
Was Brunhilde-nim like that.
While Demian thought while inhaling a breath,
- Everyone, protect that child!
- Right! That child must survive rather than us.
- Let's form a formation. So we can defend against the Banshees approaching that outsider child!
Voices penetrating into Demian's ears.
The vigilantes blocked Demian's front.
No, it won't do. Looking at the backs of the vigilantes, Demian thought. Those people won't be able to withstand the Banshees' offensive. Demian took a step without delay, but,
THUD, it went.
Demian tumbled.
The Farenheit family's treasured sword sprawled by his side.
Demian crumpled his expression.
He glared at the treasured sword as if blaming himself.
Why are you damaged. Why couldn't you endure the bodily fluid and the blade melted down, why aren't you intact. Why are you struggling against a mere offensive like this. Demian blamed himself at the same time as blaming the sword.
──SCREEECH!
While Banshees ran wild crying,
──WOAAH!
The vigilantes shouted, and,
With mere duty,
Can you bear it with something like a knight's duty.
All of these things. Even solid duty ends up becoming colorless.
Do you have the confidence to endure all of these things.
Ernst was asking like that.
* * *
[You must know.]
The Mother God opened her mouth.
Monica was merely listening. To the sound of the Mother God's speech.
Actually, it was different. She wasn't listening. With her eyes wide open, she examined the Mother God's face. No, she was looking at Fleur's face. Although the expression was indifferent, Fleur's mouth was moving, and Fleur's voice was being heard.
[One who walks the path, we must question each other.]
Thus we become able to answer toward each other.
The Mother God whispered like that.
[One side must not repeat questions. One side must not insist on answers. The procedure of true prayer is renewed through correct questions and answers. I do not know what you know, and you do not know what I know.]
So I will ask.
The Mother God spoke emphatically toward Monica.
[As I told you, I am standing by your side as an Avatar. I have revealed myself as a flower suitable for each creation. But why is it.]
Subsequently, she examined her body.
Examining Fleur's body thoroughly, the Mother God continued her words.
[Why is the flower suitable for you a human.]
“……It is not a flower.”
And she doesn't suit me either.
Monica whispered like that.
“She is just a girl. Mother God-nim is taking the appearance of a child I couldn't protect.”
[I cannot understand.]
What is the difference between a human and a flower?
Humans are beautiful like flowers, only somewhat busily moving,
And flowers are busily moving as much as humans, only somewhat rigid.
At the same time, they are small. They are weak. I cannot know the difference between a human and a flower.
The Mother God muttered like that, and,
[But there is no need to answer. Because it is your turn.]
Please ask.
At the same time the Mother God spoke,
“I will ask.”
Monica put strength into her expression.
“Could you withdraw the Divine Punishment brought down on Portsmouth.”
[……Portsmouth?]
Where is that place.
The Mother God asked back like that.
“It is a small fishing village located on the coast.”
[I do not know about the villages of creations. Because I look down at the world from too far away. If there is something I know clearly, it is probably…….]
The times,
Unknown to you, or creations.
Existences, emotions, memories, or deep-seated grudges.
It must be only those.
[It is precisely because of that.]
It is not something that can be purified by my will alone.
Because there was time before the will was brought down.
All existences, emotions, memories, and deep-seated grudges that really existed in the land where Divine Punishment was brought down. All the times you do not know. I only responded to their souls.
At the end of the curse brought down by all sorts of existences,
I merely put a period.
[So, one who walks the path.]
Will you persuade.
While the Mother God aimed the question,
[All existences who yearned for Divine Punishment, I mean.]
Red-dyed halos surged.
They must be sick Spirits. Monica grasped so,
And blackly worn figures rustled.
They must be residents who fell to evil spirits. Monica realized so, and,
[Answer.]
It is your turn to answer.
The Mother God opened her mouth.
[Are you possessing a sufficient answer…….]
To soothe the souls of all these existences.
Right here, to my garden,
Did you come holding a valid answer.