Chapter 138: Mixed Colors (2)
“Ernst.”
RATTLE, it went.
The sound of ornants 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 rely provided on the ceiling. Because the damn Cthanid resides in the deep sea, was it said to be a structure to create an underwater environnt? It's absurd.
Eleanor sighed.
“Don't swear. I know it's a lie.”
Eleanor's gaze headed toward the center of the temple.
Nurous 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 ssy as this? Eleanor shook her head. Everything seed 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 .
I will swear to you all.
Eleanor muttered like that.
“……Although our belief would have always been wrong.”
* * *
“Oh my.”
HISS, it went.
The sound of tobacco burning.
“There are too many.”
On the hill of Portsmouth, Pnakotic exhaled cigarette smoke. Making a shade with her hand, she aid beyond the Black Sea. One hundred and three. Pnakotic grasped the number of Banshees without difficulty. Banshees forming a flock were advancing at a terrifying speed. Although she could suppress so with bombs, it didn't change that they were outnumbered.
“Get ready, Roberta.”
“I'm already doing it.”
Roberta drew her dagger.
She scratched her head with the end of the hilt.
With human eyesight, one couldn't grasp the Banshees' movents. The reason Pnakotic was needed was because she was an Elf. An Elf's eyes were superior to a human mobilizing spells. While Pnakotic examined the distance, Roberta moved her body while grasping the dagger.
“Ernst Oppa communicated.”
Roberta opened her mouth.
At the edge of the hill, bombs fixed with ropes were nurous.
Balloons were attached to each bomb. A state where balloons made by sewing pieces of cloth rose along with the bombs. Roberta stood by them.
“He says there are more Banshees than expected. Are we at a disadvantage?”
“Well.”
Pnakotic laughed.
Shrugging her shoulders, she continued her words.
“I do not know your skills. Although I have lived here all my life, how would I know what they teach children in the Capital. It is obvious that your dexterity is excellent, but…….”
Still, you probably don't know.
How comndable what you made is.
Pnakotic muttered like that.
“You don't need to worry.”
Roberta's eyes tilted.
She looked at a distant place just like that. At a glance, it seed black shapes were wriggling. From the end of the horizon.
“I designed the bombs so they won't misfire, and imbued spells on the balloons. Even if the wind direction is off, they will fly well.”
Although I'm worried about the nature of the sea……, she thought.
Roberta muttered while stroking her chin.
“It will probably be fine. Because the spell planted inside the bomb will activate regardless of moisture. If the sea is so polluted that it isn't water anymore, then…….”
“Child.”
Suddenly, Pnakotic cut off Roberta's words.
A faint smile was situated on Pnakotic's lips.
“It is fine to be a little more honest. You are extrely nervous. You seem to be interpreting the continuity of a function. It ans you seem to be calculating endlessly.”
Right, that's right.
When one gets nervous, one counts numbers.
I also count pri numbers whenever my mind is confused.
Pnakotic whispered like that.
“What are you so worried about.”
“I'm not worried.”
Roberta pouted her lips, then,
“Really, I'm not worried at all, but…….”
Before long, she sighed.
“Just……, because I might have made a mistake.”
At CIAR, she had adjusted her ideas.
In making sothing, she only used easy thods. Because indeed, traps with suppressed lethality were as easy as stamping out toys. Because they are easy to make, they are toys so to speak. Weapons were different. Because they possessed lethality, they were burdenso. Not only the process of manufacturing, but also in handling them.
That wasn't all.
“No, Roberta.”
TAP, it went.
Pnakotic's cane touched the field.
Pnakotic's shadow was cast by Roberta's side. Standing by Roberta's side, Pnakotic stared at the Black Sea.
“What you truly worry about…….”
And are concerned about, and fear,
Is the weapon itself. No, isn't it yourself who is creating weapons.
Pnakotic asked like that.
“As an Elf, I respect you. Recall the Dwarves. Don't they giggle while creating all sorts of grotesque things. After creating bombs capable of taking thousands of lives, they are a tribe that toasts while shuddering at that lethality. It is fortunate that you are different from those guys.”
“No, well…….”
Roberta scratched the back of her neck.
Dwarves are not a bad race. Even if she tried saying that, it would be useless. Since the grudge between Elves and Dwarves was deep like a quagmire.
“Pnakotic-nim, I am…….”
It was true that she was afraid.
The weapon itself, and herself creating weapons felt creepy. She knew the fact that one who creates weapons is needed, and the fact that weapons themselves are needed. Thus, living while making weapons probably wouldn't be bad. Roberta knew the talent she possessed. Did she inherit the talent because she didn't resemble her father? Roberta held a smile.
“I am fine.”
Only the sound.
Like the sound when bombardnt falls, the fundantal sensation made Roberta tremble.
“Really, I am fine.”
Roberta recalled.
Her father's face seen in the middle of bombardnt during the Mirror War.
Her father's expression whispering while holding her in his arms.
“I am afraid of weapons, but I am not afraid of these.”
Although I hate my father's expression,
And hate even his fleshy face,
“Because…….”
I end up following the words I hated.
Looking at the bombs she created herself, Roberta recited the words her father had said just as they were.
“Because I made them all.”
“Is that so.”
Pnakotic nodded once.
She could distinguish lies and truth without difficulty. Pnakotic decided to fall for Roberta's bluff. She just moved her cane.
“Get ready.”
She aid at the empty air.
With the end of the cane.
“Cut the ropes.”
After sending the bombs flying in the direction I instruct,
Let's experience it personally. How comndable what you created is.
“……Whether it is good to say it is comndable.”
* * *
“Everyone.”
CLANG, it went.
The sound of a blade leaving the scabbard.
“Form a formation. The flock of Banshees will arrive.”
Demian's gray eyes flashed.
Although the day was cloudy, the Farenheit family's treasured sword didn't mind. It sharpened its edge while holding vivid radiance. After reflecting his face on the blade and swallowing a breath, Demian took a step forward. Staring at the Black Sea, he continued his words.
“They say the number of Banshees is greater than expected.”
Behind Demian,
The vigilantes stood.
“Grasping through the Tactical Controller, about a hundred. They will arrive here in 15 minutes.”
Even called vigilantes, they were eventually residents.
They couldn't learn swordsmanship, and their armant was also unsightly. Demian trained them only very briefly, their stances were unstable, and the swords and shields Roberta improvised were in poor condition. Instead of scars being engraved, only swollen muscles remained healthy. Not only Demian, but the vigilantes also knew themselves. That their military power was insignificant.
- Damn it. A hundred. That's nonsense.
- We're all going to die…….
- Shut your mouth. Move quickly. He's telling us to take formation.
Demian swept back his hair.
His softly curled blond hair fluttered in the sea breeze.
The reason his back stung must be because of the vigilantes' gazes. Chewing his lower lip, Demian thought. Skill, armant, and morale were all the worst. The vigilantes were forming ranks while barely hiding their confusion.
“──Everyone.”
Thus, Demian looked back.
Scanning the faces of the vigilantes, he held a smile.
“Do not worry.”
He couldn't trust them enough to entrust his back.
Therefore, he hid his back. Demian showed his front, not his back, to the vigilantes. In the first place, he had never fought a battle while entrusting his back to anyone. Demian had insisted on fighting alone by all ans.
“Although you might get hurt, your lives will be safe.”
Therefore, how absurd was it.
How absurdly had he wielded the sword.
Reciting a declaration he couldn't guarantee, Demian thought.
“I will protect you.”
Demian spoke, but,
The vigilantes did not listen.
They were looking at a distant place.
They saw shadows crossing the surface of the Black Sea.
“So everyone──.”
Demian also looked back.
The flock of Banshees advancing toward Portsmouth.
Bundles of balloons gliding toward such Banshees, and bombs hanging at the end of the bundles.
“──Fix bayonets.”
BOOM──!
A roar echoed.
Trivial sounds were not heard.
Copious smoke rose from the surface of the Black Sea, and,
“Advance!”
Demian shouted while grasping the hilt.
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