novelraw Chapter 50 : Chapter 50
Chapter 50 : Chapter 50
Chapter 50: Monster Dissection Practice (2)
“……Yes.”
Abel nodded his head.
“So you like cats more than dogs. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Cats are the most perfect animals in this world!”
Hmph, he went.
Demian said, puffing out his chest.
His ashen eyes curved gently. A pleased smile spread across Demian's lips.
“My mother said so. There are only two ways to change one's life for the better. One is to change life itself. The other, she said, is to bring a cat into the house.”
“A cat is just a mammal belonging to the order Carnivora. It would not have the ability to take responsibility for a human's life. It would have had no reason to, either.”
Abel and Demian stood facing the autopsy table.
Each held their daggers and looked down at the Exemplar's Keratin.
Abel's expression was indifferent. He had experienced monster dissection countless times. Above all, a monster's carcass was good material. There was plenty of room to use it for crafting equipment.
Demian's complexion was dark. He soon neatly clasped his hands and, with his eyes closed, wished in a subdued tone.
“Catherine, Christina, Katherine……. all of you, give me strength.”
“Who is Catherine?”
When Abel asked, Demian's eyes opened.
“She's a calico cat living at my family home. She has the nickname ‘Empress of Mousers’. Isn't she cute?”
“Is Christina a cat too?”
“Of course. Christina has long fur like a male lion. Unusually, she enjoys walks.”
“I see. I hope your prayer reaches them.”
“Please ask about Katherine as well.”
“No.”
“I beg of you.”
Abel scratched his head with the end of his dagger's hilt.
He soon let out a sigh, weary with fatigue.
“……Who is Katherine?”
“She's a cat, without a doubt!”
Demian smiled brightly.
“I took her in when she was suffering from dehydration. Now she's living at my family home with her kittens. Her silver-gray fur is very charming. Now that I see it, Professor Argento's hair is also close to silver-gray.”
“Yes.”
Let's just start the dissection.
Saying so, Abel looked around.
The students, who had formed a circular formation, were staring at the autopsy table. Their writing utensils were tilted toward their respective notebooks. The students' gazes were quite sparkly. The opportunity to observe the inside of a monster was rare, and it was difficult to witness the dissection process. The purification of monsters was done at the cathedral, and the decomposition was done at the blacksmith's.
“Professor Argento, I'll tell you in advance.”
Demian's ashen eyes flashed.
“I have no intention of losing.”
“Yes.”
“The humiliation I suffered in our last duel, I will surely repay you.”
“Yes.”
“So be on your guard. You should consider yourself to be facing a knight in full readiness.”
“Yes.”
“Please stop giving the same answer! My chest feels tight and I want to pound the floor!”
Thus, Abel did not speak.
He stared at Demian with a blank expression.
Demian's eyes were twitching. Are you planning on not answering at all……. He crumpled his brow, muttering so.
‘How simple.’
Abel thought, holding the dagger in a reverse grip.
Demian's academic performance was excellent. It was difficult to find a flaw within the evaluation standards of the Department of Divinity. In terms of swordsmanship, he was at a level where it would not be unreasonable for him to be knighted immediately. In fact, he was likely ahead of most knights.
‘But it's excessive.’
Demian was too upright.
He needed to know reality to some extent.
If he settled too much in idealism, he would miss the time for compromise. Above all, he wouldn't be able to endure it himself.
Abel had seen countless people's minds collapse on the battlefield. The ideal built on top of reality and the reality that came crashing down from above the ideal were different. That is why he intended to correct Demian's chivalry in advance.
The villainy was for that purpose.
“I will begin, young master.”
Poke, poke, he went.
Abel's dagger pierced the monster's skin.
Abel did not delay. He slashed the Exemplar's Keratin vertically. From the nape of the neck to the navel, the moment he spread open the completely formed boundary surface,
“──Uweeek!”
Demian vomited.
Thick vomit poured into the monster's body.
“N-no……. This is……”
Demian's trembling lips.
Droplets of stomach acid trickled down the corner of his mouth.
“……Young master.”
Abel stood still, at a loss for words, then,
“Go and rinse your mouth.”
He narrowed his eyes and gestured to the sink with his chin.
“And run five laps around the training ground. While making cat meowing sounds.”
“Damn it……, damn it!”
Demian squeezed his eyes shut.
It seemed his eyes had turned red as well.
- Demian……, I thought he was a cool kid, but I'm disappointed. What on earth did he eat for lunch? How can his vomit be so colorful? Did he swallow a rainbow or something?
“It's because he ate a vegetable salad. He has one healthy meal a day. That's Demian's iron rule. To maintain the best physical condition, or so he says.”
- He didn't even bat an eye after slaughtering dozens of goblins, was it because he was afraid of seeing a corpse? Being from a renowned family of swordsmanship is nothing special.
“Stop it. That guy's swordsmanship skills are real. It's just that his heart is soft. He's been like that since he was a kid. He was a guy who was scared of climbing trees, what do you expect?”
- Ernst, why do you know so much about Demian?
“Because we're childhood friends. A tiresome relationship.”
While the students' murmurings spread,
“Ernst, go and check on Demian.”
Abel pointed to Ernst.
Ernst had been chattering in the midst of the students. Repeating words that could be either praise or censure, he was watching Demian leave the laboratory with his shoulders hunched.
“……He'll be fine by tomorrow anyway.”
Ernst let out a sigh.
He followed Demian, scratching the back of his neck.
“Hey, Demian. Let's rinse your mouth before you go.”
“……It's no use. This humiliation cannot be washed away.”
“Forget it and come here. Your breath stinks of rot.”
“That's right, Er. I am rotten……”
Abel put down his dagger.
He then examined the Exemplar's Keratin. Demian's vomit was mixed in its body. He was about to pick up a sterilized towel to wipe it off, but……,
“……If there is anyone who can use household magic, please come forward.”
He decided to give up.
It was not something that could be wiped away with a mere towel.
“I'll help you.”
Thus, Fleur stood facing the autopsy table.
A magic wand was revealed from the inner pocket of her school uniform. It was only about a hand's span long. It was not made for those with magical power, but merely an item with a few household spells stored in it.
“Household magic is quite convenient, isn't it?”
Poke, he went.
The magic wand touched the Exemplar's Keratin.
“Because there's no need to go through the trouble of sweeping and wiping.”
Demian's vomit disappeared without a trace.
“That's why I always carry it with me. Because you never know when or where you'll have to clean.”
“A good attitude.”
Abel picked up his dagger.
He began the dissection with an indifferent expression.
Fleur also grasped a dagger. She helped Abel's dissection with her mouth shut. The process of cutting blood vessels and taking out internal organs. While the students watching it held their breath, Fleur handled the monster's carcass silently without any agitation.
“Have you ever dissected a monster before?”
Suddenly, Abel asked.
“No, this is my first time.”
“And yet you're skilled. You don't seem to have any aversion to handling a corpse either.”
“Why should I have an aversion?”
A smile spread across Fleur's lips.
“People are always curious about others' inner thoughts. That's human instinct. They want to know the depth of affection, and they want to understand both ill will and good will thoroughly. Then what are others' inner thoughts made of……. Of course, it's obvious that it's the brain and heart, the five viscera and six entrails and blood, and the excrement remaining in the body, isn't it?”
The curiosity to know another's heart,
and the greed to rummage through the belly of a prey are similar.
Fleur muttered so.
“So it's really strange. The heart and the entrails are bound to have the same shape. But a good person's heart is considered beautiful, and a good person's entrails are considered ugly. Emotions are just chemical reactions, and the result of a brain soaked in cerebrospinal fluid……”
“I suppose so.”
Abel nodded his head.
On the monster's chest, the tip of his knife touched the core wrapped in bone.
Twitch, he went. The round core throbbed violently. Even if its breath has stopped, a monster's core reacts to impact. As if craving blood.
Only the monster's core had biological properties. The other parts were different from the creatures created by the Main Gods. Blood did not flow even when a blood vessel was cut, and the internal organs were not soft but hard.
“Tell me your conclusion, Fleur.”
An artificially processed compound.
Abel knew the components that made up a monster.
It was a tool used only by civilizations that had reached their peak. In fact, in some worlds, they even mass-produced weapons modeled after monsters.
“For the heart to be considered beautiful, the entrails must also be considered beautiful. Or both should be considered ugly. It seems that's what you're trying to say.”
The creatures of Epezeria did not know the essence of monsters.
That is why they were disgusted by the process of dissection. Even though the blood vessels were just wires, the internal organs were just devices, and the skin was just a mixture cultured by inducing chemical reactions.
“Then what do you think? Do you think it's beautiful, or do you think it's ugly? The human heart and entrails.”
“They're beautiful.”
Fleur answered without hesitation.
“I think the tattered skin, the fishy-smelling blood, and the gaunt bones are all beautiful. Isn't that precisely why?”
The reason I was granted the Resuscitation Ceremony……
Just as Fleur whispered so,
“──Meow!”
Demian's shout echoed from outside the window.
“That makes sense.”
Abel nodded his head.
After glancing at the window once, he resumed the dissection.
Fleur's words were likely true. The God of the Underworld favored those who were connected to death.
“Professor Argento.”
Meanwhile, Fleur whispered softly.
So that the students wouldn't hear. With her head tilted slightly, staring at Abel.
“I told you before. That I dislike you, Professor.”
“You did.”
Abel affirmed without making a big deal of it.
“Honestly, I'm not sure. The reason why I dislike you, Professor. But the fact that I dislike you is certain. I want to deny everything about you, Professor.”
“I see.”
That could be the case.
Abel thought, shrugging his shoulders.
There was no reason to be affirmed by all the students.
“I'm going to find out from now on.”
The reason why I dislike you, Professor……
Just as Fleur whispered so,
“──Meow!”
Again, Demian's shout echoed.
“So I will ask.”
A gleam flashed in Fleur's light blue eyes.
“Why did you give Monika a sword?”
……Monika?
Abel tilted his head.
He had never imagined Monika's name would be mentioned. Thinking it was unexpected, Abel answered.
“Because she has talent.”
“Of course, that must be it. Because Monika can use aura. It means she has innately mastered the ultimate skill of a Holy Knight. Her swordsmanship is still clumsy, but she will improve quickly with effort.”
But Professor Argento, she said.
Fleur continued in a cold tone.
“There must have been other ways. You had the means to do so, Professor.”
You could have bought her a good place to live,
and helped her lead a safe life.
Isn't that right, Professor Argento?
In the first place, what's the use of talent? It can't bridge the gap in status.
CIAR is the same. A talented noble child will soon rule over the commoners. And talented commoner children will be consumed by such nobles. A noble's talent may be a blessing, but a commoner's talent may be a curse.
The more outstanding a noble, the longer they will survive,
and the more outstanding a commoner, the faster they will be exhausted.
“Do you know what I mean? If, by any chance, something like the Mirror War were to happen again……”
Monika will stand on the battlefield.
She might get an incurable wound, or she might be killed by someone.
Fleur whispered so.
“And yet, Professor Argento, why did you give Monika a sword?”
“Did I not say? Because she has talent.”
Clink, he went.
The dagger was placed on the autopsy table.
The dissection was over. Everything of the monster except for the core had been carved out. The blood vessels, which were merely wires, were arranged, and the internal organs, which were merely semiconductors, were tidied up. The students scattered for a close observation. Abel mixed in with them and opened his mouth.
“You are right, Fleur. Some talents are nothing but a curse.”
There was no reason for any child to become a hero.
Coming and going through countless worlds, Abel had realized it keenly. That it would have been better for his disciples not to have been chosen by the world. Monika was the same. What was contained in the Holy Sword was not a brilliant honor but a heavy weight.
“Fleur de Saint-Pierre, you……”
Abel wore a faint smile.
“You are quite fond of Monika.”
“……What?”
Fleur's expression stiffened.
Her neat voice trembled slightly.
“Rest assured. Monika will not die. I believe that child will be able to save countless lives. And if that child is in danger of dying……”
Then I will die instead.
Abel asserted so.
It was a natural principle. The ‘Mother God's Left Hands’ had to lead the ‘Mother God's Right Hands’. It was not difficult to sacrifice one's life. The children who had to save their worlds in the future were more precious than the adults who had already saved their own worlds.
“……I see, Professor Argento.”
The corners of Fleur's lips rose.
A blatant sneer was spreading.
“I think I know now. Why I dislike you, Professor.”
I hate him. I still can't stand him.
I hate everything about that man, Abel Argento.
Fleur was finally certain. Everything that constituted that man was hard. He was so absurdly strong that it made her want to vomit.
Abel did not lie. He was speaking his heart, not some glib nonsense. Fleur also did not doubt his true intentions. Abel's nonchalant expression was as upright as the statues of the Main Gods.
That is why she hated him.
Because that man was too strong.
Because he was strong, he would not know. Anger, sadness, anxiety, fear.
The hearts of the weak……
“Then please be careful.”
Fleur held the dagger upright.
A gleam flashed on the sharply honed blade.
“CIAR is a more dangerous place than you think. Especially for a child like Monika.”
The blade rose smoothly.
Thwack, he went.
Fleur's dagger touched the monster's core.
“I've already told Monika, but you probably don't know, do you, Professor?”
Fleur's cheeks darkened.
The blood that made up the monster's core was splattered.
It was not the blood of a monster, but the blood of the Demon King. It is said that the Demon King injected his blood into the cores of monsters. Thus, the orthodox theory was that they came to hate everything created by the Main Gods.
“Monika's hometown, you see.”
Fleur lowered her upper body.
She cast an icy gaze toward Abel and whispered, tilting her head to the side.
“Our family wiped it out.”
Monika's mother and father,
the scenery of her childhood, the few villagers,
even that child's right arm……
“──Everything, was taken away by the Saint-Pierre family.”
* * *
- Good grief. I can't do this.
The captain of the guard rummaged through his cigarette pack.
He took a step, a cigarette between his lips.
- I don't even have time to see my kid's face, yet I have to look at the face of a corpse.
Deleir, a small city in the Holy Numeros Empire.
The captain of the guard was in charge of its security.
It wasn't a bad job. Petty criminals would rummage through the market every day, and the occasional apostates would cause trouble. Wasn't it a blessing that monsters didn't appear? He had been leading the city guard for over a decade with such optimism.
- You're late, Captain. Patrick went to vomit.
- Give that bastard a smack on the forehead. Where does he get off vomiting without any respect for his superiors?
- These are good times. When I was a rookie, we were made to eat what we vomited.
Yeah, yeah.
I get it, so everyone shut up.
The captain of the guard pushed through his subordinates and moved forward. While the acrid cigarette smoke wavered before his eyes, he surveyed the surroundings to analyze the scene.
It was just an inn. A place good for sleeping after chugging cheap booze. If there was anything special, it would be the name. The Tongue-Bitten Pony Inn. The owner of this place seems to have no intention of doing business.
- Chimneys or windows. There are many corners to hide in……
The captain of the guard stared straight ahead.
Murder inside an inn was common. Knife fights between drunkards were ordinary, and it was also frequent for thieves who snuck in to steal valuables to leave a stab wound.
- But this is the first time I've seen a case like this.
Even a monster wouldn't kill a human like this.
The captain of the guard thought, clenching his cigarette.
Inside the inn's room, there was a hung corpse.
The face, which held a scream, was still full of life. But it was a corpse that looked as if it had died a hundred times. The limbs were cut off and scattered, and the wounds from being mangled all over the body were clear.
Judging by his attire, he seemed to be a noble. Could he have met with misfortune while staying overnight? Even so, it was strange. The noble's guards were only knocked out but were unharmed, and only their master had passed away.
- Captain, we've identified the corpse.
Meanwhile, a subordinate approached the captain of the guard.
- Julien of the Saint-Pierre family. He was on his way to the Naflansee Cathedral.
- The Saint-Pierre family?
They're the marquisate that developed the mana stone vehicles……
The captain of the guard thought, stroking his beard.
- I'll go and send a letter to the Saint-Pierre territory. Preserve the scene as it is. Don't let a guy like Patrick rummage around.
- Yes, sir!
The captain of the guard threw down his cigarette.
He crushed the butt with the front of his boot.
He took a few steps, then looked back at the scene again.
- I've seen all sorts of things in my life.
On the wall of the room, a phrase was scrawled in blood.
- Like a madman.
The early morning dawn cast from outside the window.
The sunlight, pouring through the cold air, shone on the phrase on the wall.
The captain of the guard read it blankly.
It was just written,
.
.
.
I am a flowerpot of severe cold.
Who planted winter in my belly?