103. You Bastard, Why...
103. You Bastard, Why...
'What became of humanity after she vanished?'
Marcus pondered this question without end.
When the world burned under the dragon's fury, they had failed to muster the courage to stand and fight. That failure, he believed, deserved to be called a sin.
If a hero appeared who sought to oppose such a being, then they should not have merely watched. They should have cultivated the strength to stand behind her and protect her in turn.
'We placed all our hope on her alone, standing by and doing nothing. And when she was lost, what wretched state did the rest of us, left behind in her stead, end up falling into?'
If only they had possessed forces capable of fighting beside her—enough strength to protect themselves from all the calamities that followed. Then, perhaps, even her sacrifice might have carried honor and glory.
In the end, because they entrusted everything to her and did nothing, wasn't that precisely why humanity was driven to the brink of annihilation, its survival hanging by a thread?
'Humanity must cultivate its strength.'
Having realized this, Marcus abandoned his homeland, which had already been destroyed by plague. He entered the Empire and began to build his power from the very bottom.
'We must not depend solely on the idol of the Hero. The entire collective must unite as one and cultivate strength.'
He endured the oppression of a corrupt establishment, rose through the ranks, and poured everything into strengthening the military for the sake of his mission.
Not merely depending on the symbol known as the Hero, but incorporating even them as a component of the military force to stand against all approaching dangers...
The rank of Legion Commander was the fruit of Marcus's lifelong investment, an attempt to succeed where she had left off.
'But what of this man?'
And that was why Marcus could only look upon the man standing before him with utter displeasure.
There were hundreds within the Empire alone who were just as strong as she was, with just as much potential.
Yet this man remained trapped by the lingering regrets of the past. He had chosen to create a successor to her, a being to confront calamities that even she could not overcome.
'Look at reality, Jang Cleo. Chasing after her shadow will no longer bring hope. The very survival of the human race is in jeopardy.'
That anger burned all the hotter now, for the results achieved at the end of such a path were so utterly pitiful.
"Keugh!"
And yet, the resentful lamentation born of that fury never managed to spill out toward the despised comrade before him.
Because the blood trickling from his mouth at this moment...
...informed him that the man he thought would waste his remaining days stewing in regret now had almost no time left at all.
"Marcus. I..."
Even having reached his final limits, the man remained composed.
With a dignified air, he sought to convey his will.
"Regrettably, I cannot become a great man pursuing noble ideals, as you are."
It was nothing worth making a fuss about. Not now.
He had long foreseen this outcome.
Because the path he walked was never about protecting humanity as a human. It was something impossible to achieve without discarding his humanity.
"I did not choose this path for the world. As you judged, I am a selfish man... Its beginning was nothing more than a wretch seething with vengeance, wanting nothing more than to rampage."
"What are you...?"
"Tasian Failoy. She is still alive."
The moment that name was spoken, Marcus's face stiffened violently.
Tasian Failoy. A being swept away by the flow of time alongside the Hero and forgotten.
Calamities that made a mere dragon seem insignificant now swarmed the world, but Marcus had witnessed with his own eyes the land incinerated by that dragon.
"And before long, she will become a threat to humanity. Soon... a situation will unfold where she has no choice but to threaten humankind."
The fear of her was carved deep into his bones.
His instincts urged him, in this moment, to heed the man's words carefully.
"...Jang Cleo."
"The battle that set you upon your current path... has not ended. If her battle is not over, then should not one of us—among those she led—inherit that fight?"
They had been indebted to her. They had decided their future paths during the brief peace she had protected.
Everything they had achieved afterward was built upon that very past. So how could they focus only on the present situation and dismiss that past as if it never happened?
"Even if she were to reappear in this era, as you say, she would ultimately amount to nothing more than the fighting strength of a single Hero... but still, if lingering attachments to her remain and block the path forward, someone must take up her mission and end it in her stead."
Yes, if someone had to do it, then it should be him—the one who had dreamed of avenging her.
Having conveyed this, Jang steadied his aged body and walked past his comrade.
"...So you see your own mission through to the end. As for her mission, the one you could not inherit... I shall put a final stop to it."
Those were his last words on the matter.
Having left his final message for his old comrade, Jang guided his tattered body onward, hoping to quietly leave the encampment.
He shut his blood-filled mouth and endured the growing roughness of his breath.
"...What do you mean, put a final stop to it? Now, of all times?"
Marcus, unable to bring himself to stop his departing comrade, ground his teeth and clenched his fist.
To stop him here out of pity would, in itself, be a crack in the path he himself was walking. That hesitation held him back.
"Isn't what you desire also something you can only achieve by staying alive and witnessing its outcome?"
He could only feel that bitter regret.
In a reality where he could no longer even watch the path his old comrade would walk, all he could do was dwell on that regret.
***
Darkness gradually descended upon the garrison zone.
As the sun set and bedtime approached, the soldiers who had finished their minimal guard duties began preparing to end their day.
The torches meant to illuminate the surroundings were being snuffed out one by one, leaving only a faint glimmer to light the way ahead.
But since there was no road left to walk, such a faint light was more than enough to guide him to a dead end.
'You're doing well.'
Lightening his heart with that thought as he walked, Jang recalled the young man who had followed his orders and grown admirably, using the memory to manage the pain wracking his body.
Watching over the boy's training had accelerated the collapse he had long been suppressing, but today's battle had proven that it was meaningful nonetheless.
'He's still lacking, but just a little further and he'll be fine. Even if I'm gone, I've found someone to guide him in my place...'
The place he finally arrived at was a construction site where the defensive wall had not yet been erected.
This path, free from the ears of patrolling guards and easy to traverse, also led to the 'final training ground' he had prepared.
"You are departing."
Just as he was about to step into that training ground, an all-too-familiar voice rang out from behind him.
But he did not turn around.
He had already guessed that the only one who could slip past the guards' notice and come to this place was a prophet who had sensed a future where he would leave for this destination.
"...Before you go, could you listen to my story for a bit?"
Perhaps it was because he had so little time left, after all.
In this moment, he found himself wishing for someone to talk to, to resolve his lingering regrets. But the prophet's voice from behind him was utterly composed.
"There is no need to tell me. For I already know your entire past."
"...Hoho, I see. You know everything, do you?"
Come to think of it, the note she handed him the first time they met had contained a great deal of information.
From his past, to what he was capable of, and even what would happen in the future.
"Spend the time you would use sharing your story on something more meaningful for your final moments."
Yes, for soon a situation where she would have no choice but to rampage was about to unfold.
If the world continued on even after his death, then he needed to prepare for that time before this life ended.
"Bystander who failed to become an avenger. I will remember you."
"...Thank you. For seeing off this old man at his end."
Everything was done to honor the Hero who had led him to this path, and to pass that path on to those left behind.
-Step. Step.
As he climbed the mountain ridge alone, thoughts focused solely on that one purpose, loneliness gradually began to fill his heart.
By now, it was a familiar feeling.
So too was the way he soothed that loneliness by recalling memories of her, as he always did.
****
The Kingdom of Britannia.
Even in the Age of War, it was a nation that stubbornly clung to peace. Yet, even such a place needed to strengthen its military to repel foreign invasion.
Jang Cleo was merely a low-ranking conscript in that kingdom. Nothing more.
The reason he formed a bond with the Hero was because he was chosen as her attendant, tasked with tending to her needs, and thus accompanied her on her journey.
It was nothing more than carrying luggage and providing support. Yet even that he considered an honor, and he carried out his duties with a sense of mission.
If he watched her back like this, she would be able to focus on her work. And that, in turn, would lead to the salvation of the world.
'You just have to accept a being of high dignity into your body. If you do that, the world will bless you of its own accord.'
As they spent time together, he would often hear the secrets to her strength.
She would say that her ability to wield the unique power of spirits was entirely due to the dignity granted by someone else.
She repeatedly emphasized to those who admired her that she was, at her core, no different from other humans.
'So please don't think of me as someone special. If you accept the power of a high-ranking being like I did, anyone can accomplish such things. Though, I can't guarantee what might happen if you use that power without permission...'
He learned that she had inherited her dignity from a dragon only after everything was over.
In the fight against the dragon, the woman who had called that creature "Mother" swung her sword not with noble purpose, but with hatred. And at the end of that desperate struggle, she lost her life.
The being who had roamed battlefields since girlhood, driven only by hatred for the mother who abandoned her, who was eventually appointed as a Hero... was, in the end, killed by the very hands of the mother she was reunited with.
'That... was the dragon...?'
An immoral act beyond the wildest imaginations of any human.
Because it was directed at the one he respected and followed...
...and moreover, at the one regarded as humanity's only hope, he felt his hatred for the beast swell.
'Is a dragon truly such a vile, hideous creature?'
After the battle ended, the dragon vanished from sight. Yet, his hatred grew uncontrollably.
That dragon was a creature that should never be allowed to exist in this world.
For the sake of the world, and moreover, to achieve her dying wish.
'I need strength.'
Recalling her words from long ago, he frantically grabbed whatever remnants of the battle remained and shoved them into his body.
He crammed the shattered sand, fragments of armor, the dragon's blood and flesh that had dripped from its shed scales, and the scant residue from her corpse, which the dragon had taken away. He forced it all into his mouth, repeatedly jamming everything he could into every part of his body.
Then, he spent time cultivating the power that rose from within.
He could feel his body breaking down because this power came from a being of dignity without that being's permission. But he regarded even that as irrelevant.
'Tasian Failoy. I must kill her.'
That dragon, which had trampled countless people and livelihoods.
He lived solely for that purpose, roaming the world in search of any trace of the dragon that had vanished without a sign.
From that day onward, he dragged his ruined body forward, tracking down every last person who knew of the dragon's flight path, the eyewitness accounts of it transforming into human form, and its distinguishing features.
The place he finally arrived at was the Empire, which had come to be called the last hope in a world descending into chaos.
In a secluded back alley of Workshop Street, sensing that all the clues he had gathered were pointing there, he boldly stepped inside.
-Clang. Clang.
The sound of hammering that echoed through that place remained vividly etched in his memory, even now.
Hammering filled with emotion. A woman silently forging a spear in a place so scorching hot it was stifling just to enter.
Every time she swung the hammer, her body cracked and crumbled as if disintegrating, shedding ash. Yet those fragments repeatedly reformed into flesh and skin.
The sight of blood droplets dripping from her as a result would have seemed alien to anyone.
'Tasian Failoy.'
The moment he saw that figure, he realized the being he had been searching for existed right there.
Yes. He had finally found her.
If that was certain, then he should have charged at her right then and there, carrying out the mission she had left unfinished—thinking that even if he lost his life on this spot, it would be enough as long as he succeeded in striking her reverse scale.
'You wretch... why...'
He had come all this way, accepting unsanctioned power into his body for that sole purpose.
Yet on that day, he gave up on charging at her. He only stared at the woman who had stopped hammering and collapsed to the ground.
She, who had been forging a spear, was unable to endure the emotions welling up inside her and simply crumbled...
'You wretch, why the hell are you crying?!'
A sight utterly impossible to associate with a monster who had committed such an immoral act...
...was one he had perceived even before he had arrived at this place.