I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Chapter 253: Epilogue (1)

253. Epilogue (1)

Old Abyss Corporation.

The Abyss Archipelago, now under the Allied Military Government. The capital, Pandemonium.

The pile of wreckage that was once the Abyss Corporation Headquarters was swarming with demon workers and Allied soldiers.

It was a strange alliance, formed from the circumstances of the Magic Tower, which wanted to salvage and study anything it could from the collapsed building; the Allied Forces, which needed to get some scraps from them; and the demons, who had to offer something of value to receive mercy.

"You found him?"

"Yes, we knew the location where he was imprisoned. We were able to find him."

After hearing the answer from the succubus Leah, who was flapping her wings in the empty air, King Heinrich I of Krafte stepped into the wreckage excavation site.

"Your Majesty, King."

"Your Majesty, King!""Glory to Krafte!"

Heinrich gave a casual wave to the soldiers who recognized him and saluted, and headed for his destination.

And at his destination, after dismissing everyone else, he came face to face with a corpse that was so mangled it was almost unrecognizable.

It had been brutally crushed under the debris of the collapsing building, but even a cursory glance suggested it had met its end long before that.

It had no limbs and was as shriveled as a mummy, with nothing left but skin and bones.

"This is Vassago, former CEO of Greed Inc. After he rebelled against Baal and was purged, he was used as a Bio-Mana Extractor to supply energy to the Drones."

Leah spoke in a calm tone, then added quietly.

"He once operated as an operative in the Krafte Kingdom under the name Justin von Wittenfeld."

"…I see."

He knew without being told.

Though horribly crushed and its lenses shattered, the glasses on Vassago's corpse were a familiar object to Heinrich.

Heinrich looked down at the body of Vassago, no, Wittenfeld, and opened his mouth.

"I spent a lot of time wondering how I should get my revenge, what I would say when I met you…"

'Did Wittenfeld go peacefully?'

The Great King of Krafte, the great warmonger Karl II.

Regret did not suit him.

A sense of betrayal did not suit him.

Therefore, Heinrich remained silent.

Instead, he harbored suspicion.

The suspicion that his country might have been propped up by the demons' needs, by the demons' help, from the very beginning.

The more he investigated Wittenfeld's past actions and Krafte's course, the closer that suspicion came to certainty—

And it soon turned into a burning lust for revenge.

The military state created by their arrogance and deception, the Great King and his Krafte Kingdom, had turned their gunpoint on them.

The Demon Nation crumbled before the Allied Forces, and the demon who dared to mock Krafte met a miserable end befitting its evil deeds.

No, it was beyond miserable.

"…How pathetic."

Heinrich muttered quietly, a hollow smile on his face.

He had intended to hack Wittenfeld to pieces with his own sword if he found him, but he didn't even feel the urge to draw his sword on this pathetic corpse.

If the Great King had known of Wittenfeld's betrayal, and if he had faced the corpse of the vanquished Wittenfeld.

He, too, would likely have lost all sentiment for this pathetic corpse and turned his eyes to another rival.

Noticing the succubus anxiously watching, worried he might vent his anger in the wrong place, Heinrich I chuckled lightly.

"…Yes, thank you for your cooperation, demon. You may dispose of this body as you wish."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, King of Krafte!"

Heinrich I turned his back on Leah, who was bowing her head low.

As Heinrich I walked back out, his face was set hard.

He had achieved his revenge.

But this was a victory that could not be proclaimed.

The label of a kingdom used by demons was a dishonor that would shake the very foundation of Krafte.

In the end, it was a revenge that only he knew, one he hadn't even achieved with his own hands. There was no catharsis in it.

Only a deep sense of emptiness remained.

Walking through the wreckage, Heinrich I stopped.

"Hello."

A white robe that was now all too familiar, and beneath the fog where almost no sunlight penetrated, mysteriously shining silver hair and violet eyes.

Saintess Queen Erisliste Lilianne De Francia.

Heinrich I gave her a slight bow.

"I heard you have awakened. Are you in good health?"

Eris smiled faintly.

"I'm fine now. Thank you for your concern."

Heinrich looked at Eris as if sizing her up, but he couldn't think of any particular reason she would have sought him out.

Although they had fought together as Allied Forces, officially, Krafte had merely fulfilled its duty based on the treaty signed by the Great King.

And since an agreement had already been reached on compensation for Krafte's significant contribution to the war, there was nothing more to discuss.

After all, Francia and Krafte were closer to having a hostile relationship than being ally nations.

As if reading Heinrich's thoughts, or perhaps simply not thinking much of it, the White Queen smiled lightly and spoke.

"It's been decided that a military government will be established, and the rest of the Allied Nations will now begin the withdrawal phase."

"Indeed."

Naturally, the position of Governor-General to directly manage the military government in the Abyss Archipelago went to Francia. There was no need to consider anything from the start of the war to the contribution rate; the gate had been constructed in Francia in the first place.

"Are you returning to Krafte immediately?"

"Yes. Our purpose has already been achieved."

A bitter taste lingered on Heinrich's lips as he said this, and Eris, smiling, watched him and then spoke.

"The Germania Empire and the Eastern Empire have invited Marquis Lafayette and me."

"...Hmm. I suppose since they weren't the main players and their monarchs didn't take direct command, it's a matter of securing legitimacy."

"They each have their own purposes, but I believe it will be a good start for the Allied Nations to continue their friendly relations in the future."

"That may be so."

But why are you telling me this?

As Heinrich shot her such a look, Eris smiled slyly and spoke.

"If you'll permit it, I would like to continue a friendly exchange with Krafte. We are already trading with nations that have rare goods, like the Iberian Brotherhood and the Kingdom of Alps, and Marquis Lafayette mentioned that an officer exchange program between Krafte and Francia would be of great benefit to both sides."

Eris cautiously watched Heinrich's expression before adding.

"Of course, any serious promotion of this would require an affirmative response from Krafte, and I would have to present it to the National Assembly as well."

Heinrich stared intently at Eris before speaking.

"You're surely not unaware of our relationship."

Heinrich still remembered the Saintess Queen's appearance when she had faced the Great King with him.

Her disposition was not unworthy of the name Saintess Queen, but even she had not hidden her anger at the Great King's outrageous words and actions.

Heinrich thought he could understand if she harbored hatred or a desire for revenge against Krafte, which made him unable to comprehend her intentions all the more.

"You're not thinking we've become friends just because we fought together once, are you? Our common understanding has already ended."

Eris shook her head lightly.

"Of course not. But, depending on what we do from now on, couldn't we become friends?"

"…"

"We fought a war, and we shed a lot of blood. That's all the more reason I believe we must improve the relations between our two countries."

"I think your intentions are noble, but there is no eternal peace between nations. Especially when there is a relationship of resentment."

"Perhaps. But rather than doing nothing and waiting for a catastrophe that will one day come, I want to try to make the peace, which will one day end, last even a little longer. Or perhaps… do you want to take revenge on us? If so, then there's nothing I can do, but…"

Heinrich let out an empty laugh as he looked at Eris's clear face, which seemed to show no malice, not even a thought of hiding anything.

Revenge, revenge.

Krafte had certainly been defeated by Francia and had lost a great deal.

He could seek revenge if he wanted to.

But when even a justifiably executed revenge against a demon who had deceived him with clear malice felt so empty…

If one could harbor a desire for revenge against an opponent who acted like this in a situation where malice was justified, wouldn't that person be a demon rather than a human?

In the end, Heinrich chuckled and nodded his head.

"Very well. Both our nations have shed blood in succession; peace is good. If we can be of benefit to each other, there is no reason to refuse."

"Thank you!"

At the sight of Eris, who was simply and purely delighted, Heinrich also smiled lightly.

And he merely repeated to himself the words he could not say to her.

I pray that we never meet as enemies for as long as we both shall live.

*

The capital of Francia, Lumiere.

The National Cemetery.

A place filled with countless tombstones.

A tall, handsome man in a splendid cavalry uniform, carrying what looked at a glance to be heavy luggage, walked among the tombstones.

After walking for a long time among the innumerable tombstones, the man took out a beer bottle from his luggage, opened it, and tilted it, pouring the flowing beer onto a tombstone.

The man began to walk with long strides.

He soaked a tombstone by pouring alcohol on it, and when the alcohol ran out, he took out another bottle and continued walking, pouring again.

"Here, have a drink."

At a glance, it looked as if he was defiling the dead, yet there was not a trace of shame or impurity on the man's face.

"Is that refreshing? You tough guys."

He simply walked with a hearty gait, pouring the alcohol.

"Don't feel too wronged. Damn it, this body of mine just happened to survive because I'm damn awesome and good at horse riding."

Jerome Morelle spoke as if in conversation, soaking the tombstones of his subordinates buried together before turning his back.

"I'll be back, you bastards. Rest easy."

Then he followed a familiar path and plopped down in front of two tombstones.

"Yo, how's it going, friends?"

There was no answer.

But as if he had heard one, Jerome Morelle took the last alcohol bottle from his luggage.

This time, it wasn't the cheap beer that rough cavalrymen would drink on the battlefield, but a wine befitting his friend's refined taste.

Opening the cork with a familiar hand, Jerome Morelle chuckled and raised the wine.

"You won't be bored and lonely anymore, huh?"

Raphael Valliant.

After pouring wine all over the tombstone bearing his old friend's name, Jerome Morelle chuckled and tilted the bottle sideways, pouring wine on Nicolas Nere's tombstone as well.

"Nicolas, you stubborn bastard. The guy who acted most loyal to Raphael bravely threw himself in. Thanks to you, I, who had plunged in with the resolve to die, ended up looking ridiculous. Made me lose face."

Jerome Morelle slowly turned his gaze back to Valliant's tombstone and spoke.

"Is it tasty?"

His friend, executed and buried long ago, did not answer.

"I can't even remember when we last did this, man. Who would've thought that I, who expected to be dead before turning thirty and becoming a coward, would still be alive, and that stupid Revolutionary Government would still be running just fine?"

Instead, Jerome Morelle chattered on.

"You want to hear my heroic deeds? Of course, they're fucking damn awesome. It's a completely different league from the days when I was just catching minnows like Duke Lorenne. Crushing the Imperial Army, smashing the Krafte Army, I'm the awesome cavalry general who jumped into the middle of the enemy position on the Demon Island, cut through enemies single-handedly, and came back alive, that's who."

After boasting to his heart's content, Morelle chuckled lightly.

"Hey, Raphael."

His friend, a poor mercenary captain who, despite his station, had a refined taste and always sought good alcohol, and himself, that mercenary captain's business partner who was so completely captivated by the cool sight of a flashy cavalry uniform that he'd risk his own life riding a horse.

"...We thought we had to succeed, that we had to fight to the very end. But. I didn't get that great success, and I even lost the political strife. But under the Marquis I thought was my enemy, I fought through every possible battlefield to the end, and we won. …Isn't it funny?"

His friend, who had always craved success and power, declaring he would cast off his humble origins and remain a hero, did not answer.

"It just occurred to me. Back then, when we got our hands on power we didn't have, we lost our heads and couldn't see. But the guys who looked so stupid in our eyes, as time went by, turned out not so stupid after all."

What if, what if he and his friend hadn't plotted a coup d'état?

If they had been satisfied with the positions they'd attained, trusted others a little more, and known how to yield.

Then perhaps his friend, who had such shining talent, might have remained as one of this nation's most brilliant heroes, alongside that Lafayette.

Jerome Morelle vaguely thought it would have been nice if such a world existed somewhere.

"I'm heading out, then. I had you buried next to the guy who followed you because he liked you, so you won't be bored."

Jerome Morelle brushed off his buttocks and stood up, speaking to his friend.

"Since I've survived this far, I'm going to see it through to the end. I'll watch to the end to see how far the Marquis you couldn't understand, and this country you thought was stupid, can go."

Then, he chuckled and turned his back.

"I'll tell you until you're sick of it, so wait, my friend."