Chapter 218: Auction House (8)
Should Lancia’s appearance here be called a coincidence?
No—perhaps it was sothing inevitable.
Countless events had led up to her arrival at this place.
Until just a few days ago, Lancia’s mind had been, without exaggeration, a complete ss.
First and foremost, there was the order issued by Cardinal Bruyant.
He had instructed her—nothing out of the ordinary, really—to refrain from taking action and to exercise restraint until the festival ended. Yet to Lancia, those words carried a markedly different weight.
Then there was the matter of the brand ntioned by Archbishop Onni.
And not long ago, the unidentified light that had faintly leaked from Lian’s collarbone when she happened to glimpse it in passing…….
Ordinarily, matters like these could have been skillfully brushed aside and let go.
But the problem was that she had been seized by a violent confusion and turmoil unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.
Since childhood.
From the day she lost her hotown to Demons and wandered alone, only to be taken in by the Holy Sun Church…….
She had always been taught that Demons were absolute evil—vile beings that must be eradicated.
That their destiny was to beco the sword that judged such creatures, the lantern that illuminated the world.
But what about reality?
Those Demons, derided as the devil’s minions, were openly walking the capital streets, and rumors were spreading freely that so might even enter the academy as exchange students.
The problem was that not even within the Holy Sun Church did any significant voices of opposition arise.
On the contrary, there was even an atmosphere that seed to tacitly acknowledge and accept the situation.
……A cup filled to the brim overflowed not because of its contents alone, but because of the final single drop added at the end.
In the end, Lancia could do nothing but flounder while holding her directionless confusion and resentnt deep in her chest.
And the thod she chose was to drive herself even more harshly than before.
First, she deliberately distorted Bruyant’s order in her own mind.
She twisted the words “do not step forward and remain restrained” into sothing like, ‘As always…… act in a manner befitting an Agent.’
Then, at that mont, Lancia happened to hear about the Black Market.
The Black Market.
Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed it without a second thought.
But now, she needed sothing to imrse herself in, and so she began digging into and investigating the Black Market—sothing she would normally have had no reason to care about.
It should have been a completely useless action.
However, through that very useless action, she learned that recently there existed a presence in the Black Market that bought and sold people’s corpses and personal belongings.
Furthermore, she learned that at the center of those transactions were high-ranking mbers of the Holy Sun Church, and that all the traded items were being transported to an abandoned Orphanage.
“Ah.”
It was impossible.
This was all because of the Demons.
Muttering so, Lancia imdiately headed toward the Orphanage at the center of the story.
“Ahh.”
And there…….
She felt that dreadful presence—one she could never forget, and must never forget.
As if possessed by sothing, she instinctively hurled her body toward that presence.
When she ca to her senses, she was already behind a man without a head.
She had plunged her sword into the back of her mortal enemy.
“…….”
A desperate situation—the heart pierced clean through from behind.
Yet the man without a head showed no sign of pain, not even the slightest movent.
Instead, he rely muttered in a calm, untroubled voice.
“Well, this is sothing.”
He spoke as if dumbfounded.
“Uninvited guests keep appearing one after another. If the story keeps continuing like this, it won’t end even after several days.”
And stories that drag on like that tend to lose all their readers and audience mbers alike.
His grumbling voice contained not the slightest hint of panic or surprise.
It was an utterly indifferent tone, as if this entire situation were nothing more than a botherso scene in a play.
“……You don’t know ?”
“?”
At Lancia’s question, his body twitched slightly.
“Have we t before?”
“……!”
He did not even rember.
Because of you, because of you…….
“Because of you……!”
Clenching her teeth, Lancia pulled her sword free once more.
Even as the blade tore roughly out of his body, he still showed no reaction whatsoever.
“Uaaahhh!!!”
Letting out a scream that could hardly even be called a battle cry, Lancia began hacking into his body repeatedly.
Slash! Slash!
The horrific sounds of flesh being severed and bones shattering rang out in succession.
Yet despite his mangled appearance, the man still looked as though he had suffered no damage at all.
“Hng……!”
Just as Lancia was about to swing her sword again, a piece of black cloth flew in from sowhere and blocked her path, moving as if it were alive.
She reflexively retreated and corrected her stance.
“Oh.”
For the first ti, emotion entered the man’s voice as he watched her draw up her Divine Power.
“Impressive Divine Power and swordsmanship. You must have undergone extrely grueling training.”
Even as he murmured calmly, he did not loosen his guard against Artemia, who was glaring at him from the opposite side.
If he let his guard down even slightly, he would probably vanish imdiately.
“……It can’t be helped.”
He muttered softly.
Then he tapped his severed left hand with the staff he was holding.
“……?!”
At that mont, Lancia could not help but flinch, her gaze stolen by the appearance of the staff in his hand.
A strange yet ominous light—very similar to what she had seen recently near Lian’s collarbone—was faintly leaking out.
Was that why?
Or was there so other reason?
In any case, she reacted half a beat slower than usual.
……No, perhaps even if she had been in her usual condition, she might not have been able to avoid it.
Because the Iron Needle that had been in his hand had already crossed the empty air and was now buried deep in her shoulder.
Originally, it should have been a strike that pierced her heart precisely, but because she had twisted her body at the last mont, it had barely been limited to her shoulder.
“Kgh……!”
With a stifled cry, Lancia collapsed to her knees.
That was when it happened.
Whoosh!
With a sharp sound, the dagger Artemia was holding flew straight toward the man.
At the sa ti, she herself charged at him without the slightest hesitation.
“Hmm?!”
Kwaaang!
The mont the man knocked the dagger aside with his staff, the dagger exploded as if on cue, producing thick, billowing smoke.
Ignoring him as he was engulfed in the blast, Artemia rushed past and imdiately hurled herself toward Lancia, who was collapsed on the ground.
She could not leave her like this.
However, the instant she grabbed Lancia, she realized that enormous pieces of black cloth were already wrapping around them, covering all directions as if to bind them.
“……It’s an arm that’s already been cut off, so it wouldn’t matter even if a bit more were cut away.”
From within the smoke, the Masked Man muttered softly.
“It’s better than being exposed here.”
“Ah—!?”
By the ti she realized sothing had gone terribly wrong, it was already too late.
The two of them were completely engulfed by the black cloth and vanished without a trace.
……And shortly afterward.
Contrary to what they had braced themselves for, the black cloth had no effect on them at all.
Except for the fact that the place they were now standing was completely different from the alley where they had been fighting so fiercely just monts ago.
“……What on earth is this supposed to be….”
In the middle of a vast, desolate plain.
Carrying the unconscious Lancia over her shoulder, Artemia muttered quietly.
Her voice was swallowed up by the dry wind blowing across the land and faded away.
---
“…….”
A bench in a quiet park.
Valen Zeisho sat there alone, fiddling with sothing in his hands.
It was a shabby piece of wood—old, twisted, and so unsightly that one might wonder if it could even be used as firewood.
“…….”
Quietly, yet carefully, he traced the grain of the wood, repeatedly muttering sothing under his breath.
He seed intensely focused; cold sweat trickled down his forehead and cheeks.
That was when it happened.
A low voice spoke from behind him.
“So this is what beca of the item once called an elf’s treasure.”
“……Is that you.”
It was a woman wearing a Fox Mask.
Valen Zeisho glanced at her briefly and muttered indifferently.
“You seem to show up often. Feeling lonely, perhaps?”
“You could say that.”
She nodded readily, as if agreeing.
“An old enemy is much the sa as an old friend, is it not? At this point, there are few people left—including you—with whom I can speak this openly.”
The woman walked over slowly and sat down beside him as if it were only natural.
Even so, Valen Zeisho remained silent, continuing to handle the bow that had once fought alongside him on the battlefield.
“By the way, I hear your corpse is appearing at the Auction House.”
The woman suddenly threw out the remark.
“Oh?”
Valen Zeisho nodded, sounding impressed.
“So, are you planning to buy it?”
“I’ve already collected the money. A corpse of your caliber would hardly be lacking even as a decoration.”
When Valen Zeisho asked calmly, the woman replied with a shaless smile.
“Chilling.”
Muttering so, Valen Zeisho asked again.
“Do you plan to attend as well?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“…….”
She did not answer that question.
Instead, she rely spoke quietly, as if making an excuse.
“You don’t need to worry. I have no intention of ruining your affairs. I will simply take care of my own business.”
“…….”
Valen Zeisho fell silent.
Only after a long while did he mutter, as if sothing had just occurred to him.
“I made a promise, but it seems I won’t be able to keep it.”
“Hmm?”
When the woman turned her head as if asking what he ant, he continued softly.
“The you I rember and the you standing before now are so different they can’t even be compared.”
“…….”
“Popolotuass. I rember that ti well.”
Valen Zeisho let out a quiet chuckle.
“We went through quite a bit back then.”
Nodding, he carefully tucked the old piece of wood into his chest and spoke.
“He kept shaving away his own body and repeating it all for the sake of survival. But the you I knew…… would have accepted it, saying it wouldn’t matter even if you died.”
“…….”
“So why are you here now, doing this?”
To his question, she still gave no answer.
“If you don’t wish to answer, that’s fine as well.”
Instead…….
He muttered.
“You said I’m much the sa as an old friend. In that case, I’d like you to grant one request from that friend.”
“A request?”
“Yes.”
Valen Zeisho nodded and rolled up his sleeve.
A brand was clearly etched into his forearm.
“I’d like you to deliver this in my stead.”
Then, as if whispering, he added.
“To Lian Gwendil. The child who, like you, carries the distinct scent of one who has returned after reversing ti.”
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