Survivor of the Fallen Kingdom
As I’ve said before, I’m the type of person who believes no one truly wants to die.
Situations can become so dire that suicidal urges emerge. People might throw themselves away, unable to endure the slander and violence hurled at them by countless others. Or perhaps they hang themselves, crushed beneath the weight of pressure they’ve placed on their own shoulders. But even after experiencing all of that, a person does not actually desire death. They simply give up on living.
Because living itself has become agony. Because they can no longer find any reason to continue their existence. Or because the expectations piled on their shoulders have grown too heavy. Whichever it is doesn’t matter. Willingly abandoning the life you possess means something of equal gravity has happened to you. I can accept that such things are possible.
However.
Separate from thinking it’s possible, I cannot bring myself to respect those who give up on their own lives.
That was the reason I shattered the sphere of the Outer God floating before my eyes.
Of course, even setting aside my personal feelings, there were more than enough reasons to destroy it. We had to stop the spirits’ plan to summon an Outer God, and from the moment the sphere appeared, the ferocity of the remaining contaminants had spiraled out of control. The Empire’s superhumans wouldn’t fall to such creatures, but there would still be a considerable number of injuries. Those injuries would create gaps in manpower, and those gaps would inevitably produce some kind of result.
There were many other reasons to break the sphere, yet I didn’t bother convincing myself. I simply destroyed it on the spot. There was no need to list out justifications. If one was absolutely required, the inner thoughts of someone engraved across the black sphere’s surface would have sufficed.
And beyond the cracked sphere, the faint sound of someone sobbing.
The spirits poured out their panic at the sphere’s collapse, but I paid them no mind and stepped closer. There was something far more important.
Crack. Crunch.
I smashed the damaged sphere with my fist, cleared away the fragments, and peered inside. There, curled up tightly and trembling, was a girl staring back at me. She slowly opened her mouth.
“Why…?”
Not how, but why.
People who have been saved from the impossible usually ask about the method. But the girl before me asked for the reason instead. Why had I saved her?
It was a way of thinking that didn’t belong to ordinary people. And because I could guess exactly where that mindset had come from, I twisted my face inwardly. I couldn’t let it show on the surface.
At the same time, I spoke slowly.
“Since you were the primary subject of the ritual, you planned to sacrifice your own life to stop the Outer God’s descent?”
Instead of the answer she wanted, I addressed the plan she must have prepared. But not in any ordinary way.
“A pathetic plan.”
In a manner that denied her completely.
At her master’s words, Arleah’s eyes widened. It wasn’t the first question she had asked after being pulled from the sphere, but sudden criticism of her plan. Since he had abruptly called the scheme of someone who had been ready to die pathetic, it was only natural that she was flustered.
But Kyle paid no attention to that and continued.
“You intended to destroy the sphere the spirits created along with all the power inside it, then die. That sphere exists to merge your power with theirs.”
“……”
“The spirits’ wariness toward you had mostly dissolved after you obediently lent them your strength all this time. So you would pretend to follow their intentions without resistance again, offering your body, only to rebel fiercely at the decisive moment and drain all their power. Correct?”
Arleah could only nod silently at the explanation that followed. His description matched hers down to the last syllable. She had no idea how he knew, but her plan had been exactly as Kyle described.
When even the contaminants and her power failed to kill Kyle Amillan, and the Outer God summoning ritual seemed doomed to fail, the spirits had revealed their panic. Then they executed their final prepared plan: injecting every last one of them into her body.
Cases where the dead and living become one by borrowing an Outer God’s power are rare, but not unheard of. However, such rituals consume an enormous amount of power. If someone interfered midway, the power would be wasted and the fusion would fail.
That was why the spirits had saved this method as their last resort. Yet the princess had known until the very end that their plan would not succeed. It wasn’t because she had concrete evidence; she simply believed in her master.
And indeed, Kyle Amillan had forced the spirits to resort to their risky final plan. Therefore she had to act exactly as she had intended. She would obediently accept the plan, then resist with all her might at the critical moment. Since she too was a superhuman, she could at least interfere. The fusion of dead and living was a delicate process; strong interference would prevent it from completing. And if the fusion failed after consuming the Outer God’s power, both the subject and the medium would separate in exhaustion. It would create the perfect timing for her master to deal with the Outer God’s vessel.
If only Kyle had not shattered the sphere the instant he saw it.
“If you knew that… then why…?”
The princess wore an expression of genuine incomprehension. This had been their last chance. The royal scepter remained intact, and as long as she lived, the spirits’ power would continue to be sustained. The contaminants would likely keep appearing as well. In a battle against an enemy that could never be destroyed, it was the only possible move.
Yet Kyle spoke without a flicker of emotion.
“Because it’s ridiculous for someone without the courage to die to claim they want death.”
Before Arleah could even react, a bone-chilling voice came from behind.
Dozens, then hundreds of spirits slowly emerged from the cracked sphere. Although the fusion had failed early, the mere attempt had already consumed a great deal of power. Completely ignoring the penalty was impossible under the laws of this world. Some form of penalty for failure had to be paid, and the one the spirits chose was complete severance from the medium.
At the same time the spirits leaked out, Arleah felt a sharp ache in her heart. Until now the spirits had parasitized her one-sidedly through the curse embedded in her heart, emerging bit by bit. But the penalty had completely canceled that parasitic link. Of course, once they recovered the consumed power of the Outer God they could re-enter, and that would not take long.
Moreover, the spirits granted special power by the Outer Gods received no damage from physical attacks. Only magic could harm them, and even then, only special high-level spells could injure their souls.
Watching the spirits fly through the air and scatter the Outer God’s energy, Princess Arleah lowered her head. She could not close her eyes. She had thought it would be all right, but now there was no other option. There were no mages nearby, and even if one arrived from afar, the spirits would have already re-entered the curse by then. And once inside the curse, they would never leave the princess who had betrayed them alone.
She would become their puppet, controlled by the power of the Outer God.
To the ears of the princess who had bowed her head came Kyle’s voice.
“Since it’s been a while since we met, I’ll teach you one thing.”
Even though the situation had become this hopeless, he remained utterly indifferent. The sound of footsteps followed.
The spirits’ voices stimulated her thoughts. In terms of inducing despair, their words were quite effective. No matter how much he was called the Sword Demon, he could not possibly cut down spirits granted immunity to physical harm by an Outer God.
However.
“Don’t associate with those who speak of the impossible.”
Krrrrr.
The moment Kyle spoke, a chilling sword hum drew her head up involuntarily. When she turned, what she faced was killing intent.
It was so thick it was hard to believe it came from a sword, the kind that instinctively sharpened every sense. It would not be an exaggeration to say the blade existed solely to kill.
“‘Impossible’ is nothing more than an excuse uttered by those who have given up, a way to protect themselves. It is always the justification of the defeated.”
Holding that sword, Kyle muttered to himself and swung it toward the spirits.
Shuk.
With a short, severed death cry, the spirits were sliced apart. It was complete annihilation.