045. The Name of the Morning Star (6)
The place where the battle ended was desolate.
Kallios felt as if his entire body was falling apart and let his shoulders droop.
Had there ever been such a fierce battle?
‘…No.’
He could say with certainty, there had not.
Even the battle with the Orc Champion had not been this urgent.
Moreover, it was not a situation where he could simply rejoice in victory.
‘There were sacrifices.’
Kallios’s expression sank.
He saw Historia, who had collapsed and was gasping for breath, and Yuren, who was supporting her.
In the final moment, it was undoubtedly thanks to her help that he survived.
If not for that, even if he had preserved his life by fleeing, Verheim would have been reduced to pieces.
A hollow laugh came out.
‘It’s a mess.’
He was on the verge of sighing at how nothing had gone according to plan.
Gathering his emotions, Kallios lifted the battered Verheim and slung him over his shoulder.
Then he spoke to Yuren.
“…I’ll take this man and investigate the sealed storage. We need to gather evidence.”
It was an excuse.
It was just to give them some space.
For some reason, he had sensed that Yuren harbored a deep sense of debt towards Historia.
So, he was giving her the time to guard her final moments alone.
“See you later.”
With that, Kallios left.
* * *
Historia tried to see Yuren’s face.
Of course, it was a difficult task.
The distinction of objects blurred, making it hard to discern his features.
She could barely make out the hazy figure of a person looking down at her.
But even so, there was something she could tell.
‘He’s angry.’
Even without seeing his expression, the atmosphere, the breath, and the trembling in the grip that held her told her so.
A sense of regret arose.
The thought that she might have disappointed him briefly crossed her mind.
She felt sorry.
But above all, with the life she had left, she wanted to convey this.
“Thank you.”
It was fortunate that she could at least say that.
Historia smiled faintly.
Yuren remained silent for a long time, then suddenly spoke.
“…Aren’t you really selfish?”
“……”
“Whenever something happens, it’s always like this. You never think about the people around you, only doing what makes you feel comfortable.”
His tone was filled with anger.
But, unfortunately, listening to it made her feel sleepy.
It was a natural phenomenon as death approached.
Despite the intensity, Yuren’s words sounded like a lullaby.
His low voice and unremarkable tone deepened that feeling.
What was amusing in the midst of it all was that he didn’t stand on ceremony with her.
He spoke as if he knew her well for some reason.
Strangely, that made her feel comfortable.
Was it because his attitude was familiar?
Was it because he felt a sense of closeness to him?
“Just, a bit…”
Yuren couldn’t continue his words.
Historia squeezed out the remaining strength and spoke.
“…Go. It’s, dangerous.”
The divinity that contained the contamination was withdrawn.
Though the body was dying, surely the contamination would seep into the skin.
What if he got hurt while holding on like that?
It was a thought that crossed her mind.
However,
“What’s dangerous? You’re on the verge of death.”
She felt his hand on her forehead instead.
“Just try to survive. You need a beating. That’s the only way you’ll come to your senses.”
How could she not wish for that?
How could she not long for a future?
Historia thought it would be nice if such a thing happened.
It would be quite enjoyable to see Yuren getting annoyed and herself retorting, ‘But it turned out well, didn’t it!’
Of course, it was a vain delusion.
“Ha, haha…”
“Funny, b*stard.”
“Go, now.”
“I’m not going. I…”
“Dying, dan…”
At that moment.
“You’re not dying. Stop talking like you’re losing strength. Didn’t you say that?”
Something warm spread from his hand.
It burrowed into Historia’s chest.
“Hope is believing in someone. But what if you don’t believe?”
Her eyes trembled.
Her fingertips twitched.
His words were clear, because they were something he had once told him.
Meanwhile, warmth spread from his hand to his entire body.
“…Yeah. Well, what can you do. It can happen when you’re on the brink of death.”
The voice burrowed into his ears.
“So I’ll believe you. Just for today. Just for now.”
He placed something in his hand.
“I’ll be your hope.”
That was the moment.
Thump―!
The corruption pulsed.
* * *
Since the day I met this woman again, I had vaguely thought so.
There would be many battles ahead, and the chances of this woman not being involved were slim.
Perhaps, as long as we were alive, we would face situations that required sacrifice, and when that time came, this woman would willingly sacrifice herself.
I already knew this woman too well.
The time spent together on the battlefield, the conversations we had after meeting again, all only reinforced that certainty.
So I had thought about it.
If she tried to pull such a stunt again, how could I stop her?
If I couldn’t stop her, how could I handle it?
There was no option of not stopping her.
There was no option of letting this woman die as she pleased.
I didn’t want that.
Without any rational judgment or interest, I just didn’t want it.
So I thought of various answers.
There were a few that were actually possible.
Fortunately, this time also fell within that category.
Crack―!
Historia embraced the corruption.
It remained within Historia, pulsing like this until the moment of death.
Of course, when the breath ceased, the pulse of the corruption would also end.
But what if she hadn’t taken her last breath?
What if she still had the minimum life force needed for ‘mutation’?
If that were the case.
‘She would mutate. The contamination would keep her alive.’
And I happened to have the material for that.
‘A necklace.’
A necklace that converts mana into life force.
Being an ancient artifact, its mechanism is unknown, but its effect is clear, so I used it.
As I thought, the life force infused by the necklace became the soil for the contamination.
The contamination caused a mutation, serving as the driving force to restore Historia.
Crack―!
The contamination intertwined with the mana.
It amplified the mana.
The amplified mana transformed into healing power.
Historia’s heart began to beat faster.
Whoosh―!
Then Historia’s body floated into the air.
A dark purple mist enveloped her.
However, the desired reaction had not yet occurred.
I waited, recalling one truth that governs this world.
‘All supernatural abilities…’
Ignite through life.
Even if the ignited ability is consumed, as long as one is alive, it will always replenish.
Mana, spirit power, and even ‘divine power.’
Finally, the awaited reaction came.
Whoosh―!
Though it was due to contamination, it was still life force.
The divine power surged, feeding on the life force.
Golden radiance intertwined with the dark purple.
Thus, Historia began to change form.
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I eventually let out a hollow laugh at the completed form.
“An angel.”
Whether it exists or not, doesn’t it suit quite well?
It perfectly fits that woman who only knows how to comfort herself.
The white body, segmented like a wooden puppet, had an unusually high number of joints in its arms.
The golden hair and wings, as if made from melted golden wax, were undulating stickily.
Most notably, it had two right legs. Including the one leg attached to the left, it had a total of three legs.
I recognize this form.
Perhaps, if Historia from the past life hadn’t controlled the contamination… if it had progressed beyond mere distortion, it would have transformed into this appearance.
But, it’s best to leave such sentiments as sentiments.
“Humans should live in human form.”
I won’t leave it as it is.
I have obtained everything I wanted.
Vitality, divinity, and if that contamination has fulfilled all its roles, shouldn’t it be discarded?
I stood up.
I grasped the sacred tree.
Historia looked at me with eyes that had only the whites remaining.
No reason could be felt.
Perhaps, it’s because it only caused mutations without recovering its mind.
Thus, the result.
[Aah…]
Only the essence remains.
The instinct to survive.
Only the mechanisms for reacting to external stimuli and counterattacking remain.
Wooong!
Divinity and contamination gathered around Historia.
They glared at me, containing a far-reaching destructive power.
I checked my body condition.
‘I can fight.’
There is no necklace.
But the body can move.
Mana? Barely enough to squeeze out.
But still.
‘This was everyday life during the war.’
No intention of whining.
Crunch―!
Releasing mana around the body.
Overlaying it on the sacred tree, shaping it.
Screech―!
What is created with the scream is aura.
The space itself turns into my domain.
I took a stance.
The taste of blood fills my mouth.
It feels like my insides are turning upside down.
I gritted my teeth and focused my mind.
Why go this far for some luxury?
If I were to ask myself that question, there would be only one answer I could give.
“Let’s call it even with this.”
Because the debt of this woman saving me and then dying on her own still remains.
“Now there’s no life debt.”
I’m pushing myself a bit to ease my mind.
Boom―!
I charged towards Historia.
I fended off the pouring offensive and extended the sacred tree towards its heart.
The shattering of the aura cut, stabbed, and tore apart the texture.
Twisting the obstructive neck, pulling out the wings, breaking the limbs.
Yet, with divine power, Historia kept regenerating.
So I attacked even more fiercely, with the momentum to tear it into pieces.
Bang―!
Fighting as if it wouldn’t end until one of us died.
Struggling more than before, peeling off each layer.
*Rip―!*
He tore the angel’s skin from the woman.
* * *
Kallios headed towards the sealed chamber, lost in thought.
From the moment he realized all this was Rebecca’s doing, there had been a lingering suspicion.
In retrospect, although everything seemed like a scheme by the demon, there were many puzzling aspects even without that.
First, the Orc Champion.
Why did they risk death to come after him?
Why did they use strategy instead of brute force?
Second, Beatrice.
Among all the methods, why did she attempt demon summoning? More importantly, *how* did she learn the method of demon summoning?
Third, Verheim.
Could he conduct this research alone?
A clergyman, not a scholar, just by reading the knowledge of forbidden books?
*’That’s ridiculous.’*
If forbidden books were that easy, the world would already be in chaos.
They generally required magical knowledge of at least the sixth rank for interpretation.
Among the aforementioned facts, the only one actually verified was Beatrice.
But even Beatrice couldn’t remember how she came to know the art of demon summoning.
That part was why she was used by the demon again.
Given all the circumstances and known facts, there was a conjecture Kallios could come up with.
*’A group.’*
A group that created Rebecca and shook the spirits of the golden generation.
If they were moving in other directions as well.
If they were doing more than just observing the situation for their own purposes.
That assumption was truly unsettling.
After all, didn’t it mean that rats were running rampant in *his* empire?
Kallios was not so understanding and tolerant as to let that slide.
Moreover, Kallios did not trust others enough to let them investigate the matter.
Leaving everything behind, Kallios was convinced in the battle against Verheim.
‘It seems I must do it myself.’
He had to step forward personally.
The so-called leaders of the golden generation were too incompetent to realize anything on their own.
Anyway, let’s get back to the main point.
When, where, and how do they move?
And to what extent are they wary of their own actions?
Kallios could only realize the answer after entering the Sealed Chamber.
“Hmm.”
A very fierce smile appeared on Kallios’s lips.
“It seems they’ve already been here. We’re a step too late.”
The Sealed Chamber bore clear signs of someone having rummaged through it.
To that, Kallios muttered towards the burdened Verheim.
“I have many questions for you.”
Only those who had Verheim’s permission could enter the Sealed Chamber.
What does that mean?
It means that soon, we will know with whom he shared his research and to whom he granted access to the Sealed Chamber.
“So, get up quickly. Before my patience runs out.”
What was evident in Kallios’s smiling eyes was clear anger.
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