Chapter 115: Not Anger
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 115: Not Anger
The battle began.
Ferda traced a magic circle in the air. Three rings materialized, hovering at precise intervals.
"Lightning Bolt."
He unleashed a streak of lightning. The element, boasting overwhelming speed, surged from Ferda’s fingertips toward Lucy.
"A parlor trick."
Lucy was a seasoned witch, a veteran of countless battles. Anticipating the Lightning Bolt, she obscured its path with a thick wall of conjured vines.
Bang!
The bolt slammed into the vines. But the assault didn't end there.
"Oh?"
Though the Lightning Bolt had been intercepted, dense clusters of mana spheres erupted from within the impact point. They scattered in every direction, swarming Lucy like a hive of angry hornets.
"An interesting move."
Lucy didn't bother to dodge. The spheres slammed into her body with brutal force, yet she didn't even blink.
"To manifest three magic circles without assistance and even apply such a technique... impressive."
The finesse Ferda displayed was enough to surprise even Lucy. For a Blue Circle possessor to show such skill, they would usually have to be at the 5th Circle.
"You utilized only the attribute of speed required for a Lightning Bolt, then nested smaller spheres within the larger one... I know there is a magic circle for that, but..."
She snapped her fingers as if realizing something.
"Did you do that manually?"
"You talk too much, Pavilion Master."
"Doesn't it just show how relaxed I am?"
"True enough."
True enough to be beaten.
A void-black explosion erupted beneath Lucy, warping the space around her. Darkness—the most powerful of all existing elements. A Dark Bolt had manifested directly under her feet.
Her head, already pierced by a previous strike, was utterly obliterated by the Dark Bolt. To the naked eye, Lucy Philias had died instantly.
— Hehehe, marvelous.
Lucy Philias’s voice echoed throughout the garden. Her body, which should have been lifeless, twitched like a broken doll and took a step forward. In that instant, her mangled flesh knit back together as if time itself were reversing.
"Using Barbatos' Shadow Arts to catch your opponent off guard. A fine strategy, but it lacks depth, child."
"You’re the one looking for depth?"
Ferda wondered if those were the right words coming from someone who had forced a mere 4th Circle mage into a life-or-death struggle. Instead of answering, Lucy simply offered a delighted smile.
"Yes, keep struggling to defeat me."
Lucy lashed out with thorny tentacles, and Ferda retaliated, utilizing every spell and resource in his repertoire.
Ferda already knew. It was impossible to defeat Lucy. Even the feeling that they were somewhat evenly matched was an illusion—Lucy was carefully modulating her power to stay just one step ahead.
"This could go on forever."
Lucy let out a long, bored yawn.
"It seems you haven't truly felt my sincerity, so let me say it once more."
Lucy’s aura surged violently, heavy and suffocating.
"If you lose here, I’ll ravish your fiancée myself."
"You crazy bitch..."
The curse slipped out before he could stop it. Lucy smiled contentedly at the sight of Ferda losing his composure.
"Child, do you know what it’s like for a woman to take another woman? It is on a different dimension than a man. I can turn her into a slave to pleasure in an instant. I wonder what it would be like to do that to a Dragon?"
Whether she meant it or not no longer mattered to Ferda. He could not tolerate the insults pouring from her mouth.
Ferda steeled his resolve. He would fight even if it meant total mana exhaustion.
Yet, even then, he could not win. Even if he had killed her once before, this was like striking a boulder with a raw egg. Ferda already knew her objective.
‘She’s drawing out my trump card.’
Every mage has a secret ace—a final move for escaping, landing a decisive blow, or dragging the enemy down with them. There are secrets a mage will keep even at the cost of their life.
Lucy was trying to force that card out. She was breaking down Ferda’s convictions and reason, goading him into showing everything he had. And Ferda had to fall for it, even knowing her intent.
He couldn't take Lucy’s threats lightly. Even if it were a joke, if Ferda didn't show his true resolve, that joke would become reality. That was the nature of witches.
He poured everything into the fight, but Ferda eventually reached the brink of mana exhaustion.
"Is that all?"
Lucy’s veil was torn, and she had lost an eye. She looked a mess, but with a single step, she returned to her original state.
Ferda panted heavily, his lungs burning. "Are you satisfied?"
"Satisfied? Do you think I caused all this just to be satisfied?" Lucy sneered. "I spoke so earnestly, yet it is truly a pity my sincerity didn't reach you. It seems Valdrova is truly destined for misery."
Don't speak her name.
He wanted to scream it, but the words wouldn't come. After fighting this hard, all he felt was a crushing sense of helplessness. If she was to be toyed with by someone like this, how could he possibly save her?
You can't save anyone.
So, show me who you really are.
A circuit began to hum within Ferda’s chest. A sweet, dark voice whispered:
Show her your true self.
"Shut up."
Ferda resisted the voice. But it tried to colonize his heart through the cracks of his helplessness. Once again, that dark euphoria born of being consumed by hatred tried to swallow him whole.
Ferda made his choice faster than ever before.
‘If the alternative is yielding...’
Ferda deployed a magic circle.
‘I would rather die.’
He aimed it directly at his own chest.
"Dark Bolt."
The black sphere flew toward his heart.
Whoosh!
But the only sound was the sphere cutting through empty air. Ferda’s wrist had been jerked toward the sky, held firmly by a small hand.
"...You do the most incomprehensible things."
A girl with raven hair and crimson eyes looked at him, her expression one of genuine bewilderment. Her ruby-like eyes shimmered, and a faint scent of lilac wafted from her. It was the face of the Pavilion Master—a face no ordinary man would ever be permitted to see.
He wondered why he could see it now. Her black veil was fluttering behind her; the Dark Bolt had grazed her head as it passed.
Ferda looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you satisfied now, Pavilion Master?"
He glared at her fiercely. Driven to the edge by mana exhaustion and mental resistance, he couldn't maintain his composure.
"That expression, at least, is quite satisfying."
She wore a mature smile on her childlike face. She placed her right hand on Ferda’s chest. Something began to flow into his heart. The sense of depletion that had been causing a migraine began to vanish. She was replenishing his mana—just enough to restore his sanity.
"I am sorry for forcing you into a fight you did not want. But, child, I needed to test you."
"What kind of test?"
"What lies within this."
She pointed to Ferda’s heart.
"Did I not say these eyes see many things?"
"You did."
"Coincidentally, these eyes can see what constitutes your mana. Usually, I don't pay it any mind because it is a trivial power. You are the one who shattered that notion."
"What is in my heart?"
"An anomaly."
"An anomaly?"
"Something that does not belong in your current self."
She added in a grave tone, "But it is undoubtedly something created by you. It is something that can never coexist within those of us who possess a Red Circle."
"Is that why you provoked me?"
"Yes. I needed to push you to the brink before you realized the reason yourself."
Her gesture suggested she had no other motive. Indeed, what more could she want from Ferda?
Lucy Philias. She was the Master of the Rose Pavilion, the Big Sister to all witches, and the most powerful mage. Simultaneously, she was the ultimate authority on the Red Circle. For now, that explanation was enough to be convincing.
"So, child, can you tell me what it is?"
Ferda found it hard to speak. Even though he knew there was no point in hiding it now that he’d fallen for her scheme. It was his deepest shame.
"Don't tremble, just speak. Are we not practically husband and wife already?"
"...What?"
Ferda’s face went completely flat with disbelief. Lucy smirked at his reaction.
"Hahaha! Since you stripped away my veil, is it not like a groom seeing his bride’s face?"
"Stop talking nonsense."
"You really are fun to tease. You have a cute side."
She covered her laughing mouth with her hand. Her eyes, curved like crescent moons, sparkled mischievously.
"Now that the joke has lightened the mood, answer me."
He felt annoyed, but the crushing pressure from before was gone. As she said, the mood had lightened.
"This is..."
The feeling of killing his enemy.
Of killing his family.
Of killing his fiancée.
"My anger."
He felt like a penitent confessing his sins. Hearing the answer, Lucy watched Ferda quietly.
"Think again."
Her response was outside Ferda’s expectations.
"Why?"
"Why? Because that is not your anger."
No, it was anger. It made sense when he thought about when he heard that voice. When Ruri was forced to submit, and when he almost killed his father, Erembalt Rosnova, with his own hands—that was when the voice appeared. If that wasn't anger, what was it?
"Think again. There must be something that made you mistake it for that."
At her words, Ferda looked back. He discarded his predetermined answer and focused his senses like someone searching for a new truth. He revisited the moment in his dream when he tried to kill Valdrova.
Ferda asked himself: ‘Was the emotion I felt then truly anger?’
No. It wasn't.
What he gained by killing her was emptiness. It was the very emotion that had sent him back to the past.
Then was it emptiness? He considered it, but that wasn't the answer either. Following the thread, Ferda moved toward the truth.
Then, something miraculous happened. The thing that had remained elusive no matter how hard he tried to grasp it began to take shape. This emotion had existed even before his love for her. It was something that asserted its existence with every faint beat of his heart.
Ferda finally called it by its rightful name.
"Regret."
Yes. It was regret. The voice of anxiety was the regret Ferda carried. The soot left behind after he had set the world ablaze. Those ashes had settled in a corner of his heart.
"So that's what it was."
Ferda couldn't ask more. Before he could, Lucy moved.
"Was that love also ultimately born through regret?"
Ferda nodded. "I know. It’s disgusting."
"Hmm?" Lucy arched an eyebrow and stared intently at Ferda. "I don't know what misunderstanding you’ve fallen into, but I do not find that disgusting, child."
"Your tone suggested otherwise."
"That is your delusion. Why would I find it disgusting? If not for that emotion, do you think you would have ever truly met Valdrova?"
Ferda could answer that instantly. Never.
Ferda only truly came to know Valdrova after he killed her. Until then, he had denounced her as an evil dragon who deserved to die. At the time of the campaign, he had cheered, believing that her death would end the age of dragons and bring the age of humanity. He had never once listened to her voice, yet in this moment, it felt cruelly vivid.
"Valdrova is a truly tragic woman. Kind souls never dared to meet her, and she was surrounded only by those who sought to exploit her. She has terrible luck with people."
"..."
"Furthermore, she is unnecessarily timid. Despite possessing the Aspect of Fire and Power—the martial might to tear apart every monster swarming the Far East—she never once asserted her authority. She invited her own misfortune."
Valdrova had never reigned over anyone. The current aristocratic politics were full of people who knew she protected the Far East out of guilt and exploited that fact. Her refusal to assert authority or claim what was hers looked like the cowardice of someone afraid of conflict.
"She isn't timid."
Ferda countered her words almost instantly.
"If not timid, then what?"
"She acts that way because she is stronger than anyone else."
To Ferda, it was far from 'cowardice.' He had once been the worst mage on the continent. The reason he could achieve that wasn't just revenge. Whenever he prepared for his endless vengeance, he prepared for every possible ambush. He gave up sleep and surrounded himself with barriers, living days plagued by paranoia. He was a vengeful spirit, but he was also a coward. He needed a guaranteed way to win, and without it, he wouldn't hesitate to be despicable.
That was why Ferda knew. If she had been a coward, she would have reigned over everyone. She would have shattered the very sky above her head just to feel safe.
Lucy, who had been watching him intently, finally spoke.
"Your head."
"?"
"Lower your head toward me."
Ferda hesitated but eventually leaned in. Lucy stood on her tiptoes and tried to place her hand on his head.
"Hmm, still not enough. I have no choice."
Lucy pulled Ferda toward her, drawing his head into an embrace. She began to stroke his hair as if comforting a child.
"There, there."
"What is this..."
"Shh, be quiet. It’s not good to ruin a nice atmosphere."
Ferda couldn't even ask the reason for her unilateral behavior.
"Child, you entertain me. It has been a long time since I felt such fresh youth while talking to a man."
After enjoying the moment for a few minutes, she released him.
"Is it not only right to give a reward to a good child?"
Lucy’s face was full of delight as she looked up at him.
"Those two emotions you harbor... I shall turn them into a blessing instead."