Pavela blinked.
Her footsteps halted at the edge of a muddy trench.
Her high heels sank into the black sludge.
But she didn't notice this at all.
It seed like... sothing was different.
Just at that very mont.
A certain change had descended without any warning.
It was as if soone had quietly shut off a deafeningly noisy steam boiler in her ntal world that had been running for months.
The pain suddenly vanished.
That burning sensation that spread from deep within her spine, entangling every nerve like vines.
That nauseating feeling like countless insects crawling in her brain.
That constant, dull pain of being slowly crushed by a at grinder.
All of it.
In an instant.
Gone.
“Your Highness?”
Boria's voice ca from beside her.
His iron helt turned toward Pavela, and a puff of grey mist hissed from a brass valve.
“What’s wrong?”
Pavela didn't answer imdiately.
She moved her neck slightly.
Left, then right.
There was no stabbing pain, the kind that felt like soone had stuffed a handful of rusty iron nails into her cervical vertebrae.
She rubbed her shoulders again.
The muscles were relaxed.
They were no longer taut like steel cables about to snap.
She focused her senses more carefully.
Those whispers.
Those endless voices repeating 'destruction,' 'collapse,' and 'end' in her ear.
They were still there.
But the volu had plumted.
From the level of soone screaming directly into her ear, it had beco a faint, distant hum.
It was similar to her usual daily state.
Perhaps even a bit lighter.
Pavela checked her feelings once more.
Then, her eyes lit up.
It really doesn't hurt anymore!
Not only had the pain from this backlash vanished.
She felt as if her entire ntal burden had lightened.
That heavy pressure that had been weighing on the depths of her consciousness ever since she touched that damned gemstone—like walking while carrying a mountain.
It had lessened by [N O V E L I G H T] at least half at this mont.
This feeling of lightness.
She hadn't experienced it for a very, very long ti.
So long that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be unburdened.
As expected.
That system was just fearmongering.
All that talk about 'multiplying the pain by three or four.'
All that about 'being crushed for half an hour without being able to pass out.'
All that 'you won't want to experience it.'
Pfft.
It's nothing special after all.
Pavela turned her head and gave Boria a smile.
“It's nothing.”
She said.
Her voice was much more cheerful than before.
“I just thought of sothing happy.”
Boria was silent for a mont.
His helt tilted slightly.
He seed to be scrutinizing her expression.
But in the end, he didn't press further.
“...As long as Your Highness is happy.”
Pavela resud her pace.
This ti, she walked much faster than before.
She even felt like kicking a pebble on the side of the road.
The pebble rolled a few tis in the mud, splashing up a small patch of black sludge.
She was in an incredibly good mood now.
So good that she even wanted to hum a song.
Even though she was tone-deaf.
This battlefield was massive.
Much larger than she had imagined.
The grey sky hung very low.
There was no wind.
The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder, earth, rust, and a certain decaying aura she was all too familiar with.
The sll of a battlefield.
But unlike the battlefields in her mory.
There was no artillery fire here, no gunshots, no screaming.
Everything was still.
As if soone had pressed the pause button.
Turbid rainwater had collected in the craters.
Greyish-white, unknown plants grew on the collapsed bunkers.
A thin layer of rusty moss already covered the fallen cha wreckage in the distance.
This was a battlefield where the fighting had stopped.
War had once ravaged this place.
But now, it was slumbering.
And on this sleeping battlefield.
There were souls everywhere.
In extrely vast numbers.
Dozens of tis more than what Pavela had seen on the First Floor.
Perhaps a hundred tis more.
They wore all sorts of military uniforms.
There were the grey-green coarse cloth uniforms of Usar.
There were the deep blue uniforms of Victoria.
There were even so styles she didn't recognize at all.
They were scattered in every corner of the battlefield.
So sat on the edges of craters, legs dangling, staring blankly at the grey sky.
So leaned against collapsed sandbags, cradling a non-existent rifle, eyes closed.
So sat together in small groups; their mouths were moving, but no sound ca out.
Others stood alone on high ground, backs to everyone, motionless.
They were all very quiet.
So quiet they didn't seem like souls.
They were more like a group of living people exhausted to the extre.
Finally having received The Order to cease fire.
Finally able to sit down and catch their breath.
Pavela looked at them.
She recognized these faces.
Not that she actually knew every single one of them.
But she recognized that expression.
The hollowness left in the eyes after staying in the trenches too long and seeing too much death.
That hollowness that wasn't sadness, fear, or anger, but simply... nothing.
She had seen it countless tis.
Well, she had seen it in the mirror before, too.
“This is the Second Floor.”
Boria's voice ca from his helt.
Low, carrying a certain heavy respect.
“Of all the levels in the tower, this is the one with the highest number of souls.”
Pavela looked around.
“There certainly are many.”
“These are all soldiers,” Boria continued.
“Soldiers who died on the battlefield during their lives.”
“After their souls were drawn into the tower, most of them were in a state of... daze.”
“They don't attack others, nor do they try to escape.”
“They just wander in place.”
“Waiting for an order that will never co.”
His footsteps didn't falter.
His iron helt turned slightly toward Pavela.
“We believe these souls belong to the battlefield.”
“Placing them elsewhere would only make them uneasy.”
“Only on the battlefield can they truly find peace.”
Pavela frowned.
She always felt like there was sothing wrong with that statent.
But for a mont, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.
“Nonsense!”
An angry, muffled voice erupted from the back of the group.
Pavela looked back.
The Gatekeeper was still being carried horizontally in mid-air by four knights.
His tailcoat was mostly burnt away, and his bowtie had long since vanished.
But his ball of void fire was currently flickering violently.
Carrying a long-suppressed excitent that finally couldn't be held back.
“You're talking absolute nonsense!”
The Gatekeeper's voice rose.
“You throw these soldiers' souls onto a battlefield and then say they belong here?”
“They're only trapped in the mories of the battlefield because they died on one!”
“That doesn't an they belong here!”
“Fireball, shut up.”
The knight carrying him warned.
“You're acting up again.”
“Our Order's patrols are very reliable. Even if there's a riot, it can be suppressed before it spreads.”
“Acting up?!”
This ti, the Gatekeeper ignored the warning entirely.
His flas flared up twice as high as usual.
“You bunch of muscle-heads with nothing but armor and loyalty in your brains!”
“How many people are in your patrol? How many souls are on this floor?”
“Have you calculated the ratio?”
“What if riots break out in ten places simultaneously?”
“These souls were soldiers in life.”
“They killed on the battlefield, and they were killed on the battlefield.”
“The battlefield is their deepest mory, and also their greatest trauma.”
“You put them here, and yes, in the short term, they'll be calm because of the familiar environnt.”
“But this calm isn't healing.”
“This calm is numbness.”
“It's a drowning person who has stopped struggling.”
“And when this numbness reaches a certain critical point.”
“When a certain soul suddenly rembers what they were doing in life—”
BOOM—!!
The sound of a cannon blast interrupted the Gatekeeper's words.
The sound ca from afar.
Dull and heavy, like a sigh from deep within the earth.
At the edge of the grey horizon.
A plu of black-red smoke was slowly rising.
Like a blooming flower composed of ash and fla.
Then ca a second blast.
A third.
A fourth.
The Gatekeeper sighed.
“See, what did I tell you.”
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