Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: Burning City
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"It's all my fault."
Roca clung to my arm, sobbing pitifully. Of course, it wasn't.
In truth, this wasn't anyone's fault. In the end, everything had turned out fine.
"I-I'm just not good enough, so Master’s eyes..."
"But you can still see fine. That's what matters."
Even though my pupil was shattered, my vision was clear, so I decided not to worry about it. What was done was done, and even if I could turn back time, I would have made the same choice.
Rumble!
At that moment, the Artabus descended with a heavy thud that could have been a landing or a crash. Whether this counted as a soft landing was debatable—the hull scraped along the ground for quite a distance before finally halting. From afar, I heard His Holiness the Pope and His Excellency the Apprentice speaking.
"This thing's completely wrecked now. It'll be cheaper to scrap it and build a new one than to repair it."
"But it's over now, Your Holiness Nergal. Once we return to Valles City, I'll fund the construction of three—no, five—ships just like the Artabus."
Relief and joy laced their words. We'd lost much, but if we hadn't come, we would have lost everything.
In a way, this victory gained us nothing. It left only wounds. But between living with wounds and dying outright, the answer was obvious.
"Haha, truly impressive... No, what in the world is this?"
The door flew open with a bang—or rather, the door itself fell off completely. Beyond it, His Excellency the Apprentice approached with a broad smile, only to freeze at the sight of Roca crying.
"Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Master's... eyes..."
His gaze shifted to my eyes at Roca's sniffles. Our eyes met briefly, and he collapsed onto his rear, his legs giving out beneath him.
"What in the..."
He trailed off upon seeing my shattered pupil. I simply smiled and replied.
"Those who harm others must be prepared to be harmed themselves."
Even when I harmed others with my own power, that was true. But the night the Milky Way bled was not my power.
Since the Lord's power had struck down my foe, it was only right that I bore the backlash. It was the natural price of the act—unrelated to right or wrong.
"That's all there is to it."
From my perspective, Phoenix was no different from a devil. He'd nearly killed Roca and driven the Citadel Republic to the brink of destruction.
Countless people had fled through the gates to the capital, but with the gates now halted, no one knew when they could return. They'd been forced into exile from their homes, and now they'd have to earn fare just to go back.
So many shed tears, and the unlucky ones couldn't even do that—buried under ash and lava, perishing in the disaster he wrought.
Whether the Lord saw him as evil too, I couldn't say.
"I've burdened you greatly, sir. What are we to do about this..."
His Excellency clutched his head in anguish. I stopped him.
No need for that. I'd come knowing this might happen, and it had.
"If it were just financial damage, money could fix it, but some things... Some losses can't be restored with coin. Once they're gone, they're gone forever."
"Is something the matter?"
His Holiness the Pope emerged from inside, coughing, and recoiled at the sight of my eyes.
"No, heavens. Heh, this..."
He looked far older than when we'd last met, his wrinkles deeper, his voice rougher.
Both of us ended up laughing at the same time. When mortals borrow divine power to overcome crisis, this is the inevitable toll.
"I'm old and mostly done with life, so this is no great issue for me. But for a young man..."
Those who came down after exchanged words upon seeing my eyes. I kept assuring them it was fine, but they worried anyway. Mr. Robert approached, bowing his head.
"Sir. I've been terribly rude."
He faltered after that single line. But I understood.
Sometimes, expressions and glances speak louder than words.
"Truly, thank you, Priest. You've saved not only the Republic but the continent itself. I don't know how to express my gratitude, but thank you. Truly, thank you."
Mr. Thomas gripped my hands tightly, pouring out thanks. Mr. Robert started to light a cigarette, then paused, unrolled the paper, and scattered the tobacco evenly. Then he lit it.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"It's incense in place of the usual. To commemorate my late wife."
"Using a cigarette as incense? Were you... not on good terms with her family?"
"Does it matter? It's all from plants anyway."
Seemingly sincere, Mr. Robert knelt and prayed to the rising smoke. In the solemn atmosphere, His Excellency spoke.
"We were joyful for a moment, but there's far too much gloom. Let's head back for now. This isn't the mood for celebrating victory."
He let out a deep sigh.
"In peacetime, I'd invite you all to my favorite tavern for a round, but it's probably closed now. And with all that lies ahead, it's just depressing. Sigh, anyway..."
He looked at me again and bowed deeply from the waist.
"Thank you for saving our nation. I must reward you somehow, but first, let's see what's left."
He ducked inside briefly and emerged with a stone in hand—similar to the melted remains of Roca's crescent blade, but radiating a different power.
"Chances are there's nothing left back home anyway, so take this as an advance. It's a sunstone. You couldn't buy one for money now, but it's paltry compared to what you've done."
"No, I don't need this..."
"Take it. You've lost an eye— you deserve something."
Somehow, the stone ended up in my hand. His Excellency advised.
"But it's just ore. To make anything of it, you'll need smelting. I doubt there's a master smith on the continent who can handle it. You'll have to find one in the Empire."
Roca was too distraught from crying to notice, but her crescent blade had melted into ore too, so we'd need a skilled smith. She couldn't go around barehanded forever.
"Everyone, board for now. I'll use my piloting skills somehow to drag this... scrap heap back to Valles City. Sigh, no promises. If it feels like it'll crash, we'll land."
Cardinal Omen called us all aboard, and we boarded one by one. I coaxed the still-sniffling Roca up to the deck, where the Artabus was already lifting off into the sky.
This time, though, it stayed low—not high enough to hide the ground in detail.
"The ship's so unstable that flying through clouds could make it disintegrate midair. We'd all be done for. Better to stay low and slow."
"Hey, I won't die from a fall like this."
His Excellency—who was neither mage nor knight—protested, and His Eminence shrugged.
"Just saying. We'll get back safe."
Rumble!
Right on cue, the bow suddenly dropped. Everyone paled, staring at the plummeting prow.
Crash! It collided with the ground. Lucky it was just ash below—if it'd hit a house, disaster.
"...It's starting to come apart now."
"What?!"
"The damage to the hull is worse than thought. Slowing down more."
"I came prepared to die, but not to crash on the way home. Your Eminence, I beg you—let's get home safe."
Somehow, we neared Valles City without disaster. Then eyes on deck—including mine—widened in unison.
"No, what? Another volcanic eruption?"
"Why's smoke billowing from over there?"
"Phoenix revived again...? No, right?"
We all rushed in panic.
We hadn't been gone that long, yet Valles City was ablaze.
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