novelraw Chapter 75 : Chapter 75
Chapter 75 : Chapter 75
Chapter 75: A Flowering Bone (3)
“...Teacher Abel.”
“Yes.”
Abel looked back.
In the middle of his office, Monika stood.
She must have run here in a hurry. Abel thought, narrowing his eyes. Monika’s breathing was quite agitated. Does she want to save Fleur? He could predict it without needing any explanation. Monika must have also heard through Iris.
The whole truth.
“I’m sorry.”
Abel took a step towards Monika.
“There isn’t much time.”
Abel said, waving his hand.
Behind Abel, various crests were floating.
He was in the middle of receiving reports from the major institutions of the Empire. The bustling voices were silenced by Abel’s gesture. It would be less than 30 minutes at best. The time he could spare for Monika. Abel finished his calculation with a bitter smile. It was too cold an equation.
That child’s answer shouldn't be so light.
“Monika, you knew.”
Abel extended his hand.
After a moment’s hesitation, he stroked Monika’s head.
“The fact that the Saint-Pierre family annihilated your hometown.”
“...Yes.”
Monika bowed her head.
She knew it well. But she couldn't tell Abel.
Because she thought Abel would do anything for her.
Because she thought she had to bear her grudge alone.
“I have told you repeatedly. If you need help, tell me. But you often made secrets.”
“That’s…”
“Well done.”
Monika’s pupils dilated.
Abel held a faint smile.
“I only said to tell me if you need help. It would be your freedom to discern what you shouldn’t be helped with. In the first place, it was a matter I shouldn't have helped with. It was a problem that only you yourself could answer. And the fact that you have now opened your mouth to me…”
means you have found your answer, he thought.
Abel whispered in a small voice.
“I want to go… and save Fleur.”
“...I see.”
Abel spoke calmly.
That there was no possibility of Fleur’s survival. That it was impossible to return to being human once one had swallowed a monster’s core. And it wasn't as if another life had been given either. Fleur’s self would disappear, and like a monster, she would become hostile to all life.
“I know. For now, I think I’ll pretend not to know.”
“Why?”
“Because that child must survive. That is my answer.”
“On what grounds do you distinguish between life and death?”
“I──, only I have the authority.”
I am a survivor.
As a survivor, I have the authority.
Monika muttered so.
“Only I survived from the Marquis of Saint-Pierre. I was the youngest, and the most innocent. I was the most powerless. There would have been no possibility of survival, but the people of Sarrifis had saved me.”
Though I survived alone,
who could have more authority than I?
Neither the emperor, nor the pope, nor even the Main Gods can have more authority than I. No one should be proud that they know better than I who should survive.
Unlike them, who look down on life through power and authority,
I see life through weight and ignorance. If one becomes a Demon Human, one must be executed. There is a possibility of being subdued by the marquis. Without going through such thoughts──,
“...Fleur is a child who shouldn't die like this. I want to think so.”
“That’s the worst answer.”
Abel let out a small sigh.
Monika’s words were highly forced.
There was no way to save Fleur. Fleur also knew that fact. It was enough to achieve her revenge, so she had swallowed a monster’s core and put a period on her life in advance. Whatever Monika did was irrational and illogical, and only a tragic ending awaited.
“But it is right.”
You are right.
Abel whispered so.
“Only you would have the authority. But heed my words. I will speak not of life, but of death.”
You will be heading to the jaws of death, Monika.
To die or to kill. That is the only law that moves a battlefield.
That is why one clings even more. To things like strength and weakness.
But it all becomes colorless.
“I was never able to confirm it once. My strength. Because I have never experienced a battlefield without regrets. Then am I weak? Do I have no choice but to become endlessly weak? That was not the case either.”
Think of those who saved you.
To some, they would have looked weak.
But it is different. They were never weak.
That must be why you survived.
“I will head to the Saint-Pierre estate as soon as my preparations are complete.”
Some will survive, and some will die.
Then be prepared. It is right to be prepared for death as much as you are prepared for life.
And if you have steeled your resolve…
“Let’s go together.”
“No.”
To Abel’s words, Monika shook her head.
With a slight smile.
“It will be too late if we do that. Fleur must have already arrived at the Saint-Pierre estate. It’s the same situation as when we saved Dante-sunbae. You will be on a bigger battlefield, and you will have to look after more lives. I will take care of Fleur. I will try to save her. Even if I fail.”
I did not come to go with you.
I came to steel my resolve.
So thank you. Thanks to you, I have hardened my heart.
Monika said so. As she turned her back on Abel.
“You have to grant Fleur’s request. She asked you to protect the citizens of the Saint-Pierre estate.”
“Monika, I…”
Abel bowed his head.
He could not stop Monika. He could only swallow his words.
It was a difficult problem to coexist with. To save Fleur, and to save the citizens of the Saint-Pierre estate. It was not a matter of importance, but Abel’s own problem. Because he had coldly calculated the number of lives, their value, and the reality. To consider this as logic was difficult. He kept insisting that it was his own problem.
He was always at a crossroads.
Exchanging a small number of deaths with a large number of deaths,
weighing the importance of lives, and calculating possibilities.
To save the citizens of the Saint-Pierre estate. Fleur’s request was certainly that. Was that really all there was to it? Abel asked, gritting his teeth. Not to ask to save herself, but to ask to save everyone other than herself.
“...You must be careful, Monika.”
And so, the moment Abel lifted his head,
[Monika-nim has already left.]
Fabien, who had followed Monika, was visible.
[You are worried, Professor Argento.]
“Monika will do her part. There is no room for worry.”
[Is that so? Based on your expression, it seems you think so. Because you always look indifferent. But now I do not judge emotions by facial muscles alone.]
“...How wonderful.”
Abel began to move.
He picked up his beloved sword and took a step. The communication spell that had been silenced was reactivated, and countless voices rushed towards Abel. Transportation, communication, health. It was right to mobilize all the departments close to the Saint-Pierre estate.
“Follow me, Fabien.”
[Where are you heading?]
“To the Naflansee Cathedral.”
My armor is in the deepest part of that place, he said.
At the same time as Abel continued,
‘If you had been any later, you would not have been able to send Monika.’
Suddenly, he tilted his gaze towards the window.
A parabola drawn on the cloudy sky. A faint sign appeared in the midst of the empty air.
‘I would like to ask. Does a miracle exist?’
Only Abel would have noticed.
As it was revealed for only a fleeting moment.
The numerous gears that were interlocking beyond the sky.
‘──O World God ‘Epezeria’.’
* * *
Thump.
The sound of the archway door closing.
Fleur held her breath. Inside the banquet hall of the Saint-Pierre castle, various stained glass windows covered all sides.
The colored glass that made up the canvas was excessively splendid. Because it was not transparent, the sunlight could not penetrate. And so, the banquet hall was dark, and at the same time, solemn and damp. As most chapels with historical significance were.
“Fleur de Saint-Pierre.”
Fleur extended her two hands.
Wearing a richly puffed-out skirt, she bowed lightly.
“I have just arrived.”
An unpleasant whispering.
Fleur narrowed her eyes.
She looked around with her head bowed.
The banquet hall was a place where the entrance of servants was forbidden. It was full of only family members. They were all dressed in neat attire, but their complexions were as pale as if they had been left in a snowy field. They’re all confused. Fleur thought with a faint smile.
Is it really a test?
Is it a test of the Main Gods?
Such a question had begun to spread. Because the family members had been dying one after another, the instinct that had been suppressed by faith had welled up. They were just scared.
Like beasts driven into a corner by a spear.
“Fleur.”
Except for one person.
“You have been through a great ordeal.”
Deserick de Saint-Pierre.
He was in Fleur’s vision.
A man who resembled Fleur to a creepy extent.
“Infinite thanks to the God of the Underworld. I am truly relieved that you are safe. I was worried as a father.”
The end of the red carpet that crossed the banquet hall.
There was a throne. Deserick sat there and smiled. With the stained glass that symbolized the five Main Gods at his back.
“Although Raphael’s death is regrettable, he must have reached the underworld by now and be resting. If so, that would be a relief.”
She hated it. She hated everything about that man.
She hated his greenly waving hair, and his eyes that seemed to hold a river. And what about his pink lips, stained with a smile? She wanted to tear them to shreds and throw them into the empty air. That was why she hated it. Fleur hated herself, who resembled her father.
“Come here, Fleur.”
“Yes, father.”
What did my mother pass down to me?
Fleur contemplated as she moved her feet.
She did not receive love. She did not receive consideration. She did not receive friendship. Because she did not receive his heart, she had thought for so long that she had no heart. But it’s okay. It didn't matter even so.
- In this banquet, we must offer more sincerely. The souls of the profane sinners.
- You mean the children of the fairies. You are right. Sinners who are born with karma deserve to be executed. Only then will the Main Gods also look down upon us.
- I must also step forward. I loathe getting my hands dirty, but I must grip the hilt myself.
She learned pain.
She realized through her mother, who had been in a fit of madness.
Status should not determine the value of a life. Children with disabilities are not sinners. The karma of a previous life is not inherited. They are just being questioned for their sins; they are neither dirty nor inferior. They can be beautiful as they are. They have the right to be considered beautiful.
- It’s a relief that Fleur-nim is safe. As the head of the family said, the God of the Underworld must have taken pity.
- As expected, faith does not betray us. Those who have lost their lives… it’s a shame.
- I don’t know. Did they really die because they lacked faith? I, just can’t…
She learned doubt.
She realized through her mother, whose life had been deprived.
Faith cannot be the answer. It has become firm because it is forced to be the answer. One should not justify the world with faith. We are not the answer given by the Main Gods. We are a mere question. Just as the God of the Underworld questioned my cry, we too must repeatedly question.
What was right.
What was wrong.
“Father.”
Fleur came to a conclusion.
She lifted her head and looked up at Deserick.
“I have something I would like to say.”
“What is it, Fleur?”
“As I see it.”
Fleur looked back.
She scanned the family members who filled the banquet hall.
“The culprit of the recent murder case… seems to be inside this banquet hall.”
Silence descended.
The small voices that had been going back and forth stopped. No one could easily open their mouths. Fleur was almost killed along with Raphael. Her qualification as a party involved was blocking any rebuttal.
And also, authority. Fleur was an evangelist, and she was also the heir to the family. There was no one who would raise their voice to the young lady who received Deserick’s favor. Neither those belonging to the Arcturus family, nor those belonging to the Saint-Pierre family, could only swallow their words.
And so, she saw.
The gazes of men and women, of the old and the young, were tangled. They were questioning each other as they glared. Is it you? Is it you? Is it you? No, that was wrong. The busily moving eyes found their direction again. As everyone was staring at Fleur’s face,
“What do you think, father?”
Fleur asked with a smile.
Towards the firm Deserick behind her.
“The possibility is not non-existent. But Fleur, it is not good to suspect family.”
Deserick shrugged his shoulders.
He let out a languid breath, propping his chin on his hand.
“I have kept track of all of their movements. So understand. Because no one has committed a crime.”
“Is that really so, father?”
The family members were relieved for a moment, and
“Of course. Most of them seem to desire my authority, but they only repeat plans that have no possibility of being realized. Or they just repeat trivial slander. So it’s fine. I couldn't find any traces of them being involved in the murder case.”
“As expected of you, father, you are so thorough.”
they were then struck with bewilderment.
To what extent had Deserick been watching them?
“But father, I don’t know why, but…”
Fleur laughed slightly.
She then turned her body and faced Deserick.
In the two eyes that resembled each other, the outlines of the father and daughter who resembled each other were seated, and
“You were merciful to me.”
Thump.
Fleur’s toe, crushing her own shadow.
A whisper as light as a feather.
It was the signal to open a pocket plain.
Deserick’s head, tilting to the side. Fleur’s shadow, beginning to stir. A panicking old man. The dead, pouring out from the shadow. A retreating woman. Blades aimed from all directions. A shouting man. The sound of footsteps, the sound of metal, and the sound of crying.
Crash──!
“Lady Fleur, I’m ready.”
Osmond, who entered the banquet hall by breaking a stained glass window.
A man wearing a mask forged from iron, clad in black armor, stood on Fleur’s left, and
Alberge, smiling as he gripped the hilt of his sword.
A skeleton knight clad in heavy armor, with crimson spectral light shining, stood on Fleur’s right, and
“Listen, Deserick de Saint-Pierre.”
Screams, screams, screams.
In the midst of the raging screams, Fleur,
“My name is Fleur Epanoui. The only daughter of Pertillier Saint-Pierre.”
she declared to Deserick, gripping a rapier.
“For my mother who died unjustly, I will now destroy everything you have.”
Deserick narrowed his eyes.
Fleur’s appearance was profane. Her chest was heaving, her blood vessels were bulging, and her breath was becoming rough as she mutated.
A Demon Human. Deserick had never heard of such an existence, but he could at least recognize that Fleur was using a profane power. Half of her body had turned black and withered, and her clear eyes were also stained red.
“My, my.”
Deserick let out a sneer.
Does she intend to destroy not only the family, but also herself? To think she had fallen so low. Isn't she like a rotten flower?
How can you be so cold? Deserick wondered, looking down at his own shadow. For the first time, he became resentful of the Main Gods. As the family members were dying one after another, and their severed heads were shooting up and blood was staining all sides,
“Fleur is my child.”
Thump.
As he crushed his own shadow with his toe,
“To have to face my own child…”
Deserick whispered quietly, and
“O Main Gods, how truly sad this is.”
corpses were revealed from Deserick’s shadow.
A dead man who had been resurrected from death, and a dead man who was moving while dead.
They were the same army of the dead, but Fleur’s and Deserick’s forces were fundamentally different. Fleur’s dead had souls. Deserick’s dead had no souls. As Deserick’s soldiers, whose skeletons had been replaced with iron and who were operating through liquefied mana, began to move,
“──Strike!”
Fleur shouted without hesitation.
The blade of her rapier was aimed at Deserick.