Chapter 80: Bone Between Flowers (3)
The subjects thought.
That fla was undoubtedly alive.
There was a giant of fire soaring toward the sky.
Amidst the raging snowstorm, the giant of fire, shaped like a human, began to cross the frozen land. Thud, thud. While shaking the earth.
How were the flas that surged along its path? It was like seeing roots extending from the feet of the giant of fire. The flas spread relentlessly, swallowing buildings one after another.
The giant of fire,
Heraclitus’s voice echoed.
In front of Heraclitus, there was a vast blooming flower.
A flower that blood, dominating Saint-Pierre Castle.
That must be a huge mass of divine power. How could such a large and beautiful prey have sprung up? Heraclitus was delighted. He spread the flas and stamped his heavy feet one after another, and,
Countless voices rushed into Abel’s ears.
The commanders of each departnt dispatched for relief were communicating with Abel.
“Confird.”
Abel answered concisely.
A voice concealed by a spell was ignited.
“The Saint-Pierre estate has been abandoned. As of this mont, this place will be temporarily designated as a Papal State. You must not tolerate the death of any subject.”
It was enough to fight the battle alone.
Mobilizing troops would only be a hindrance. Abel guided all troops to focus on relief efforts. It was not enough to save many subjects. Abel’s goal was to save all subjects.
‘This armor is a shackle.’
Thud, thud.
Abel leaped, stamping on the roofs of buildings one after another.
‘Too slow.’
To one who had reached the realm of a Sword Saint, armor was unnecessary. Whatever he wore would only be cumberso. Countless auxiliary spells were engraved inside the armor, but even so, it would be easier to fight bare. In the end, it was just a ceremonial suit of armor.
‘About three tis.’
The weapon was no different.
The giant sword Abel held belonged to the highest class of holy relics, but it could not withstand Abel’s Aura like his beloved sword. The limit was to release the Aura Blade three tis. Nevertheless, the reason Abel had shackled himself was clear.
Abel detected the voices of the subjects who had reached the shelter.
He needed not his own na, but the na of the Sword Saint. A symbol to calm the subjects who had encountered a disaster. He intended to use it.
Abel dismantled the detection spell.
And so, he left only the sound of the snowstorm and the flas mingling and swaying in his ears, and,
──Thud!
leaping high,
“As you said, we ended up facing each other on a snowy mountain.”
after making eye contact with the giant of fire, Heraclitus,
‘First.’
The first of three.
He poured Aura into the holy relic.
It was enough to seize the mont. An ivory-white Aura wrapped around the sturdy sword body like a spire. Fzzt. The holy relic, unable to withstand Abel’s Aura, groaned. After calming the convulsing sword body by putting strength into the hilt,
──Kwoong!
He threw it into the air.
A trajectory drawn in a straight line pierced the sky, and half of Heraclitus’s body scattered. The mont the sparks, distorted like snowflakes, were pushed by the wind and swirled,
Heraclitus laughed.
Heraclitus’s crumbled body was being restored. Flas spread from the crimson mass floating in the air, and it was completed into the form of a full-fledged giant.
Abel stepped on the ground.
Is it useless unless I destroy the core? Abel thought, examining the cracks engraved on the sword body. The souls of those who had burned to death made up Heraclitus’s core, and because countless souls were layered, he couldn’t cut it with just the Aura Blade.
“That’s right. It’s impossible to cut it.”
Suddenly, a voice was heard beside Abel.
It was Osmond. Osmond, wearing a mask made of iron, had reached Abel’s side.
“Hello, Abel. We et again?”
“You’re alive and well.”
“Yeah……, it just turned out that way.”
Black armor and white armor.
Osmond and Abel stood side by side.
They raised their heads and looked up at Heraclitus.
“You would know, right? If you can’t cut it……”
“Then you pierce it.”
“That’s right. You have to pierce it with a sword.”
There would be no other way.
Osmond and Abel affird silently.
They had to scatter the flas that made up Heraclitus, and then pierce the exposed core in the air with their blades.
anwhile, Heraclitus lowered his head.
His eyes flickered within the huge, swollen flas. Looking down at Osmond and Abel, Heraclitus sneered.
Whoosh.
Heraclitus’s body moved.
It was rely to offer a greeting. But the arm made of flas grazed a clock tower and destroyed it, the stooping torso burned buildings, and the ash pouring from his mouth mixed with the snowstorm, dyeing everything white.
“You’ve been betrayed.”
Osmond said in a quiet tone.
“Lady Fleur did not agree with the will of the Parousia Denomination. She just used you for her revenge. I will oppose you according to her will.”
He didn’t care what happened to the Saint-Pierre estate.
Even if it disappeared right now, his heart would not be moved. In fact, he wanted to burn it down himself. Osmond had once been abandoned in this land and had almost died as one of the fairy children. Fairies do not gather in the ice. They only wander among the flowers and giggle. If not for Fleur’s arrangents, he would have just watched.
The land of ice, scorched by fire and lting away.
“I’ve received such offers thousands of tis.”
Abel said in a sighing voice.
“I’m about to yawn. Why do you wish to beco a god with such a boring reason? The end of an apostate who falls into corruption by coveting power is common.”
──Gwoong.
Heraclitus’s body swelled.
Osmond and Abel leaped in opposite directions.
The flas that made up Heraclitus were running rampant. The flas surged, threatening to burn the sky. The steam created by the eting of snow and fire spread hazily, and Abel and Osmond stepped on the gaps between buildings, observing Heraclitus’s movents.
‘I have to jump in.’
Osmond thought, stepping on the top of the collapsing clock tower, and,
‘I can’t let the flas spread any further.’
Abel judged, stepping on the roof of a scorched cathedral.
‘Second.’
The second of three.
Abel used his Aura Blade.
An ivory-white Aura once again covered the sword body.
Tuduk, tuk……. The blade began to crumble. Abel pulled the hilt and sharpened his gaze. In the middle of the steamy view before him, he brandished his Aura Blade at Heraclitus, who was pouring out flas, and,
──Kwoong!
The trajectory of the Aura Blade was engraved in the air.
The lumpy steam split in a straight line.
Osmond did not miss the opportunity. He leaped and stepped on Heraclitus’s right arm. After summoning two artifacts from his pocket plain, he drove the blades in to fix his body.
Abel stepped on Heraclitus’s left arm. The swaying flas obstructed his vision. He had to break through the front. He had to advance while cutting through the flas. He could only use one more Aura Blade. He had to get on Heraclitus’s shoulder and destroy his body with the last Aura Blade.
And so, they ran together.
Osmond summoned all the artifacts in his pocket plain.
Nurous artifacts were driven down in a straight line. As if marking the direction Osmond had to advance, colorful swords were thrust into Heraclitus’s arm. As if they were flowers that had blood amidst the flas.
Osmond ran.
Hellfire raged and blocked Osmond.
He cut it down every ti it blocked him. He grabbed artifacts one by one and scattered the flas. When one artifact broke, he grabbed another, and when another artifact broke, he grabbed yet another.
- Why?
In the middle of that,
a voice was heard.
- Why?
- Why?
- Why?
──Whaaaak!
Osmond’s vision turned red.
The flas clumped together and attacked him.
There were faces. Faces were engraved on each fla.
‘……This is.’
Osmond’s eyes widened.
They were souls. The fireballs that blocked Osmond’s view were all souls.
The fairy children. Osmond easily guessed the source of the souls. The souls that had died unjustly in this land made up Heraclitus’s body. Covering Osmond, the young souls all asked.
- Why did only you survive!
Kwaaaang──!
The souls of the young children, turned into fireballs, beca fire bombs. They struck Osmond’s armor and shouted. Why did he survive alone?
Osmond fell through the deafening roar that shook the air.
Tuduk. He managed to drive in his blade with difficulty and stepped on Heraclitus’s finger.
‘I don’t know.’
He didn’t know how he had survived alone.
He didn’t know if he deserved to.
‘I know.’
On the other hand, Abel also stood with difficulty.
Kwoong, kwoong, kwoong. The fireballs that hit Abel’s body were also souls.
He grabbed a strand of fla traversing the air and examined it. He should have crushed it, but the expression engraved on the surface was young.
- Why?
- Why?
- Why?
I know. The fact that everything had to be his own fault.
The fact that if soone had to bear the responsibility, he had to volunteer himself.
- Why didn’t you save us?
Swoosh.
The fireball scattered like a candle being extinguished.
He had sent the soul to the Underworld. A soul was imbued in every strand of raging fla. The cold dead had been heated with resentnt and were burning.
- Why?
- Why?
- Why?
Abel ran.
He broke through the flas with Aura covering his entire body.
The endless questions continued. Why? Why? Why? The outside of the armor crumbled under the weight of the questions, and the inside of the armor shattered, unable to withstand the conviction.
Why?
Osmond clenched his teeth.
Why?
Abel raised his sword.
Why?
Osmond ran forward without knowing his heart. He crossed between the heated souls and grabbed an artifact. He cut the vengeful spirits with ‘Sleeping Wave’. He split the vengeful spirits with ‘Constructed Maple’. He soothed the vengeful spirits with ‘Swollen Butterfly’. That was all he had. ‘Sleeping Wave’ scattered in fragnts, ‘Constructed Maple’ was scorched and distorted, and ‘Swollen Butterfly’ was pushed by the flas and thrown far away.
The colorful hues were like a flower stalk, but no sword could be offered to the souls.
Why?
Abel climbed onto Heraclitus’s shoulder with a dead heart. He raised the white holy relic with determination. The fireballs that t the blade of the holy relic ascended one after another. The souls that had been burning in a lump were not soothed. They were just purified. They had died once and beco souls, died twice and beco flas, and only on their third death were they heading to the Underworld. Without resolving any of their regrets.
The ivory-white conviction that raged was firm, but no heart could reach the souls.
Why?
Osmond stepped on the shoulder opposite Abel.
Why?
Abel drew out his last Aura Blade and swung it.
──Kwoong!
Heraclitus’s body scattered.
A crimson core floated in the air.
In the gap of the raging hot wind.
Abel and Osmond, who had been on Heraclitus’s shoulders, fell. They aid their respective hilts at Heraclitus’s core, which was revealed before them.
- Why did only you survive?
Fzzt──!
Abel’s holy relic, which was like a spire but had decayed like ruins,
Osmond’s sword, which was an artifact but could not beco a flower,
- Why didn’t you save us?
Crack──!
pierced.
The core that made up the giant of fire.
Why?
A dazed question scattered in the air.
.
.
.
Tuduk, tuk.
Raindrops began to fall, and,
Shwaaaaa──!
soon it beca a downpour. Was it because the flas that had soared high into the sky had even lted the dark clouds? The raging snowstorm subsided, and a rainstorm began to cover the Saint-Pierre estate.
“Ah……”
Abel stared straight ahead.
Having fallen into the rubble of a building that had turned to ash.
In the gap of the armor that had been cast in platinum but was now shabbily fragnted.
“It’s a pity. There was so much prey……”
An old man’s face was cast before Abel’s eyes.
It was Heraclitus. His flesh had all rotted away, and scorched scars covered Heraclitus’s face. Yet he was smiling. Heraclitus was on top of Abel’s body with a distorted smile on his face.
“But it’s alright. My comrades……, there are still many of them.”
“Right.”
Abel extended his arm.
He grabbed Heraclitus’s head.
As he injected a little Aura,
“We are gods……, we will beco new gods……”
“I understand.”
Pssst.
Heraclitus’s face crumbled.
It began to scatter like aged sand. From head to toe, everything that had made up Heraclitus was swept away by the wet wind.
‘It’s over.’
Abel thought, letting out a weary breath.
Osmond had collapsed beside him. He must have run out of stamina. Abel’s condition wasn’t great either. His mouth tasted bitter from being exposed to the flas for too long. The warships that had been floating in the air had landed and evacuated the subjects, and everywhere, voices mixed with tears and laughter blood.
‘Well then…….’
Abel stood up.
He looked into the distance with a blurry expression.
The rain fell to the ground, and, the souls that had made up Heraclitus beca a halo of light and headed for the sky.
Standing in between, Abel seed lost.
He only asked questions as if looking for a path.
‘……What beca of you, Fleur?’
At the edge of his vision.
The flower that made up Saint-Pierre Castle.
Only that place was shining brilliantly.
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