Chapter 355
Chapter 355
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Saint and Completer (11)
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“What... did you say?”
“It’s true. It just... happened that way.”
Heh heh heh heh. Oh man. People are all different, sure, but in the end, they’re all the same.
Ah, that expression. It’s been ages. That was exactly the look on my face back when I desperately tried to deny the thought that had suddenly popped into my head.
*That’s how it was back then...*
Everyone imagines their family’s final moments at least once. I did too.
[Oh, I saw that memory. Pretty dramatic, wasn’t it?]
*I was more sensitive back then.*
A family member lying on their deathbed. Me clutching their bony hand with both of mine, tears streaming down. Their trembling voice whispering final words and words of love, their hand finally going limp. Tears flooding as I grab the doctor by the collar, screaming *Save him! Save my dad!* And so on. Basically, scenes straight out of movies or dramas.
But reality? Nothing like that.
Stepping out for coffee during lunch break at work, only to get hit by a drunk driver in broad daylight at a crosswalk and die.
Legs wobbling after a rare workout—*Heh heh heh*—slipping in the bath and dying.
*Fuck it,* lighting up a cigarette to blow off a day’s worries, only to die of lung cancer. Or just getting sick out of nowhere and dying.
*Doubt it,* dismissing war rumors, only for it to break out and die along with 90% of the population.
Handing over your only gas mask to save your son and dying.
Listening to your idiot son and overdosing on lethal drugs, dying.
.
.
.
.
Unlike what we imagine, death comes suddenly, without giving us time to prepare. Sometimes there’s a clear cause, sometimes not. Some leave you blaming yourself forever, others burn you up inside with no one to blame.
“You’re probably fixating on ‘Why me? Why us?’ right now, thinking that if you just knew why, you’d know who or what to resent, and that’d ease the rot inside a bit, right?”
“No. No matter what you do, wounds like this don’t go away. No matter how long you wait—even until child Sioth IV becomes long-lived King Sioth IV—it’ll stay in you forever. Forever. Until the moment you die. Maybe even after.”
I tacked on that last bit thinking of the variants.
Erwin seemed to mull over my words, mouth agape, then started trembling faintly. Like someone with chills, he even yanked up the torn curtain.
“Th-then... does that mean I’ll live forever in this state...?”
“Exactly. This moment freezes solid, and you’ll grow on top of it.”
“Huh... huh huh huh... What a... pathetic... life.”
“Yeah. Pathetic.”
The strength drained from the young boy-king’s body, despair settling in. Left like this, he’d head straight to alcoholism and ruin.
“Want some more good news? What I said was my case. You? You can get even more pathetic and horrific right here.”
“Here... even more?”
“Yeah. If there’s something left to lose, you can fall even further.”
Those who’ve hit rock bottom don’t get up easily. Drag them lower, plant them through the floor. Make it bedrock-solid, so this moment becomes fuel instead.
I nodded toward where Charlotte de Agate leaned forward like she’d pounce any second, yet blocked her ears with both hands, obeying orders.
“You treasure Charlotte, right? That’s why, back in the royal sanctuary, when she and I were ramping up to clash, you hurriedly stammered about granting an audience—telling us not to fight.”
“The Knight Commander is like a sister to me... Truly, so knightly. The kind where you think, *If I had a sister, she’d have to be someone like that.* She deserves a death more worthy than dying for someone like me... no matter what.”
Clap clap.
“I agree. Over a crybaby wimp king, definitely Charlotte de Agate.”
“Ugh...”
“But here’s the thing. Those folks down there? They see it completely differently from us.”
Ah, craving a drink. If he were just fifteen, I’d drag him somewhere, get him plastered, then talk.
I hooked my arm around stunned Erwin and slowly dragged him to my side, turning him toward the spot past the shattered palace wall with a clear view outside.
His body trembled again at the sight of the blood- and smoke-filled city, but this time, gripped by my hand, he couldn’t turn away.
“Look. Your knights, your people. Like it or not, you’re their king. The blood staining those walls was shed in your name and Lordric’s. That sword down there? The knight died still clutching it; they had to chop off his fingers to recover it. Wielded in Lordric’s name.”
“You called yourself the king of a fallen kingdom. So, did they shed blood and swing swords for a Lordric that’s already gone? Can you really say that in front of walls stained with their blood? *‘Sorry, wrong guy! I’m not worth serving, and Lordric’s done! Sorry!’* Can you? Got the guts?”
“I-I couldn’t... With all that blood spilled, I couldn’t face them like that...”
Slap!
“Then live as king. If they call you king, you are one. That’s their choice, not yours. What you choose is this.”
Scraaatch, scraaaatch—
Monstrous strength scratched faint lines into the sturdy palace floor. One arrow pointing to Kingsland beyond the broken wall, one to the king’s sanctuary where he’d hidden.
“Pick.”
“P-pick... what...?”
“What a do-nothing like you will do right now. Front gets you on the balcony pronto—I’ll bellow *‘His Majesty arrives!!!’* across all Kingsland. Soldiers and knights who’ve never seen the new king’s face will crawl on stumps to see you. Back? I send you to your damp, dark, safe hole. And I won’t bother you again.”
“Th-that’s absurd! No preparation for something like this—!”
“Did your family’s death give you time to prepare?”
“...”
“Want to keep acting like a dumb, ordinary eleven-year-old? Fine. No one’ll blame you. It’s natural.”
“But! If you really do nothing out of ignorance! More names get added to that list of tragedies that dragged you down. Those knights, soldiers, Charlotte worming forward with ears plugged, your ailing mother! Countless refugees!! That’ll happen naturally too. In this situation, everyone here dying is perfectly natural.”
“N-no, not that, anything but that!”
Grab!
“If you don’t want that, do something! Move even if you don’t know how! They’re still alive, so Erwin Thür Sioth’s name means Lordric’s king! Act in the king’s name! Do everything you can! When you’ve lost everything from doing nothing, all you’ll have left is regret—and it’ll be too late! You can’t change it even in death!”
Just like I couldn’t bring back my parents no matter how I thrashed after losing them. When all that’s left in your hands is regret, it’s far too late. As someone who’s walked that path first, I wanted to tell him.
At least this kid could still move for his people in the king’s name.
“Th-then... if I act as king... can I save them? Is there still hope for Lordric?!”
“Dunno.”
“...What?”
“Unlike fairy tales, grit and effort don’t solve much. Mostly, you lose even uglier, more pathetically. The world doesn’t spin that easy.”
“Such nonsense...”
“But. Even in that, scraping together everything you have and don’t have, thrashing till you fail—there’s something you definitely gain.”
“P-partial success?”
“Nah, qualification. To point at the heavens, swing your fist, scream till your throat bursts—*‘You fucking unfair god! Don’t fuck me over, you bastard!’*—you earn that right. You can’t even blame yourself anymore. At least you can rage justly at the situation and circumstances, not yourself. That’s what you gain.”
What I learned living? There are way too many things I can’t do.
Even as an elite special forces operative, I couldn’t save my comrades who crossed death lines with me.
Some things you can reach for, others slip like sand through fingers. Pain is inevitable, wounds pile up. Can’t be helped.
So, knowing it was impossible, I charged anyway.
Pushing so hard that even those who died from my failings would say, *That’s enough.* Never stopping, charging through fire like a madman.
That way, even chewing over inevitable failure, you don’t self-loathe. Unerasable wounds scar over, weather with time.
That’s the insight, dogshit philosophy, way of life from 25 years as Professor. And 1 year 8 months as player ‘Professor.’
“Erwin. Half the people out there will probably die.”
“H-half...?!”
“Minimum half. That’s my estimate, at least.”
The young king paled, gaze sweeping the thoroughly blood-soaked city. His lips trembled as he grasped the meaning.
“That means... at worst, half can survive...! With Lordric’s name!”
“Well. If every condition, situation, unmentioned event goes perfectly. Say idiot nobles all die in freak accidents. Or a king everyone can rely on appears in barely holding Kingsland, massively boosting morale that’s hit rock bottom. Then yeah, some chance? But I can’t promise for sure.”
“Wh-what, another variable?!”
“Nah. It’s just... you don’t seem like crybaby Erwin anymore. More like His Highness Sioth IV. Liars get beheaded before kings, beheaded. Gotta watch my words, right?”
Thud!
Professor watched Sioth IV’s face—complicated but brighter than before—and clenched his fist toward the floor with its two arrows.
“So, decided?”
“I-I don’t know what to say...”
“That’s on you. Isn’t that the king’s role? What words make you look kingly? What makes those people cheer loud and return to work relieved, etc.”
Sioth IV’s face blanked at my irresponsible shove at the crucial moment, but his feet still inched toward the balcony.
“...Your Highness.”
“Gah! Wh-why call me?!”
“Heh heh heh heh. Chin up. If you don’t know, remember just this: I’m not out here because I’m king—I’m out here to be king for them.”
“To be... their king...”
“Yes. As long as you keep speaking as king, they can remain your knights, the king’s soldiers. That’s all they want.”
“So simple...”
For that simplicity, they stayed on this land, spilling blood.
The king still had no clue what to say, but he knew one thing now.
Step. Step. Step.
Clunk!
He would face those eyes looking up from the stench, acrid smoke, blood- and mud-caked ground—every day from now on.
Huuuuh—
*“His Majesty arrriiiiives!!!!!!”*
A gasp from behind, then a voice so booming the palace windows rattled, shoving his back out onto the balcony.
“What did you just...?”
“...Proclaim.”
“P-proclaim!”
“His Highness, who secluded after the late king’s passing...!”
Those rushing about, those slumped in exhaustion—all lifted heads toward the voice.
Sioth IV faced the people spread before him. The moment his hand touched the railing, silence fell like a promise. Though he’d done nothing yet, he couldn’t stop the tears welling.
To them, he was already king.
So, as king, he had to speak for them.
Tears falling, hand wiping them.
Belly tensed to reach more ears, breath drawn deep.
Lips parting, still heavy with hesitation—
*“““Waaaaaaahhhhhhh!”””*
“Sheesh. Even out there, you cry.”
After death and corpse-stench had long hung over Kingsland, the people’s cheers rang out upon reclaiming their king.
And,
Boom!
Crackle...
The saint’s fist, swung to nail this moment, pulverized the rear arrow to dust.
Of the surviving markers of choice, one pointed—not to the dim palace—but to the brightly lit balcony, arms wide: King Sioth IV.
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“You sure know how to talk.”
“Saint, remember? Saint. Apex of priests, bishops who toy with villages and cities with words. Can’t convince one Highness who’s only lived 11 years? This ‘Professor’ name goes to waste, waaah.”
“Yeah... Even in Turan, that guy talked well...”
Clank, clunk!
“Hm? Why the visor indoors...? Don’t tell me, crying?”
“The Light... has many fine teachings.”
“Eek. You heard all that! Lordric’s First Knight disobeying a direct order from His Majesty in person. Lordric’s shaky honor finally—”
“His Highness said block your ears, not not to listen.”
“Oh dear. Is that so.”
Rising, Professor glanced at the king’s small back on the balcony, then turned away. Something about wild arm-waving might suit him after all.
“...This debt, I’ll repay no matter what.”
“Say that to Gregory over there below, not me. Proclaim it before him. Get it in the Church contribution records.”
“Ahem, hmm...”
“Whatever. Eat up. His Highness is ready now, so let’s do our jobs.”
“Our jobs?”
“Yeah. Move the filthy tents from outside into the palace. Map exact friendly and enemy positions. List disconnected units in order, and... uh, that thing, where is it?”
“That thing?”
“Those guys. The commanders who cooked up that godawful strategy. Need to find where they’re meeting.”
“Oh. Commander meetings are periodic; I’ll guide you.”
“Nope. You’re too conspicuous, Charlotte.”
“Hm? Why avoid notice?”
“Eh... long story. Anyway.”
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