Chapter 252: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (45)
Chapter 252: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (45)
Blood and flesh sprayed in every direction.
It was the result of crushing Mitram’s skull with the hand axe.
To be honest, I had almost hesitated at the very last second, but the sight of that thing mimicking Ria’s body only made a surge of nausea rise within me.
I had only one precious younger sister.
I could never acknowledge anyone else as her. No matter how much they wore Ria’s face, spoke with Ria’s voice, or imitated Ria’s mannerisms, it didn't matter.
It seemed Mitram had severely underestimated my love for Ria.
I caught my breath, warily watching Mitram’s condition.
The headless body geysered blood, twitching and convulsing. I was amazed it managed to stay upright. Every living thing is supposed to die when its head is destroyed. Normally, there were no exceptions to that truth.
That was why I let my guard down for a moment.
Even though my reason told me Mitram’s modified body wouldn't perish so easily, I couldn't help but lose myself for an instant in the crushing guilt of having seemingly killed Ria.
It was then that the headless body spun with elegant grace.
I hurriedly crossed my sword and axe. It was a reaction born of pure spinal reflex.
Even so, Mitram was no easy opponent.
Thud! A kick slammed down onto the intersection of my blade and axe. If it had ended there, it would have been fine, but Mitram immediately withdrew her foot and transitioned into a fluid series of movements.
It was a seamless connection, as if she were performing a dance.
However, the power behind the ensuing strike was incomparable to any mere dance.
Boom! It felt as if thunder had struck inside my skull.
The momentum of the kick that whipped into my side was terrifying. It wasn't a level of force I could withstand, especially not while already injured.
Gush. Blood spilled from my mouth as my consciousness wavered.
By the time I came to my senses, I was already sprawled on the ground.
Letting out a faint groan, I struggled to steady my shaking vision. My eyes slowly drifted forward.
Mitram was walking toward me.
No matter how many times I looked, it was a body that looked exactly like Ria’s. From the curve of the collarbone down to the chest, to the particularly prominent lines of the hips and buttocks.
The only difference was that Ria’s body wouldn't have frothing blood bubbling where a head should be.
It was the precursor to regeneration.
Despite having her head blown off, the time it took for her to regenerate was incredibly short. It was a regenerative ability that left me utterly speechless.
Seeing her look like an immortal being, I felt a sense of hollow futility wash over me.
How was I supposed to defeat a monster like that?
A bleak despair pierced my heart.
Regardless of my feelings, Mitram simply used that body resembling Ria to mimic a lovely tone of voice.
"Ah, really, that’s too much. How could you strike your own sister’s head without a moment's hesitation?"
"Shut... cough! ...up..."
My body trembled as I spat out a mouthful of blood.
It seemed I would need a little more time to recover from the shock. Not that Mitram was likely to give me that much time.
Crunch! In the next moment, Mitram’s foot ground down onto my wrist.
I tried to endure it, but I couldn't stop my fingers from prying open on their own.
In the end, I let out a faint groan and dropped both the hand axe and the sword.
Only then did Mitram bend her knees, seemingly satisfied. It was so she could meet my eyes as I lay prone.
She spoke in a sorrowful tone with lips that looked just like Ria’s.
"Our fates are truly wretched, Ian Percus... but this is the end."
Mitram’s slender hand grabbed me by the hair. Forcing my head up, she used a brutal grip to fix my gaze on a certain spot.
There, my companions lay already defeated and restrained.
"I-Ian... Agh!"
"Ma-Master? You bitch! Let go of our Master right n— Urgh!"
It was the Saintess and Elsie Percus.
The two of them screamed in worry when they saw me, but they had already been subdued. There was no way to resist the hands that twisted their arms behind their backs and slammed their faces into the dirt. The physical strength of the test subjects was at the level of an Expert or higher.
Hearing their screams, I wanted to spring up immediately.
But all I could manage was a pathetic flailing of my arms. Mitram didn't even bother to stop that minor struggle.
She simply let out a low whistle.
"Thanks to you, I’ve acquired some wonderful materials, Ian Percus. The test subjects restraining them now are my greatest masterpieces... knights, intelligence agents, even elite mercenaries."
Mitram looked at each of the ten or so test subjects with an affectionate gaze before flashing a benevolent smile.
"...But compared to the work I will create with the materials I’ve gained today, they are truly nothing more than fireflies before the sun."
"Are you sure things will go your way?"
At my provocation, delivered with a faint smirk, Mitram burst into laughter as if she found it amusing.
"And if they don't, what will you do? Now, look into their eyes."
Seria, Celine, the Saintess, and Elsie Percus.
Every one of my companions had eyes filled with resentment and sorrow. Among them were also traces of worry for me and fear of what was to come.
Mitram’s persuasion continued.
"Everyone except you has accepted defeat. You should stop now, too. As a special favor, I will allow you to keep your personality and live as a faithful servant of the Dark Cult."
Along with an undying, immortal body, of course.
I wore a bitter smile at her seemingly generous addition.
I had no moves left.
There was only one means remaining.
Fumbling through my clothes, I spoke as soon as I found what I was looking for.
"...Mitram."
"Speak, Ian Percus."
At that leisurely reply, I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
"Good luck."
Then, the air itself began to bleed.
It was the 'Dragon Blood Runes.'
I had wanted to keep them hidden from the group until the very end, but now there was no other choice.
Blood-red symbols were etched into the air.
It was a sight as if the world itself had been wounded. Though no one moved, lines drew themselves to form a single character.
Countless legends and myths sleep within the Continent.
However, in all those stories combined, there was only one magic that displayed such characteristics.
A dazed voice escaped Elsie’s lips.
"Dragon Blood Runes..."
The symbol of the Imperial Household, a secret magic that could only be granted to the Emperor’s closest confidants.
No noble could fail to recognize its identity.
Celine and Seria’s eyes had long since widened in shock. The only ones who maintained their composure were the Saintess and Mitram.
Mitram, who already knew of the existence of the Dragon Blood Runes, hurriedly threw herself aside.
It was a split-second decision.
As soon as she cleared the area, the Dragon Blood Runes began to suck in the surrounding mana. Before long, a storm of flames swept through the clearing with a thunderous roar.
Boom! The erupting flames burned everything in their path indiscriminately.
Amidst the fire, a single shadow rose unsteadily.
It was Ian Percus.
As soon as he found his footing, he pulled a small vial from his robes.
Mitram knew of the Dragon Blood Runes, but she also knew he could only use them once at most.
His patience in waiting until now to use them was almost admirable.
However, she never imagined he would use the opening created by the runes to consume a suspicious potion.
Sensing an ill omen, Mitram shrieked.
"Ian Percus! W-What are you doing...!"
Mitram’s test subjects rushed toward Ian, but they were already too late.
Ian tilted the vial and drained every last drop of the potion—only about two or three drops—into his mouth.
Mitram stood up awkwardly, her face tight with tension.
In Mitram’s mind, Ian was an unpredictable individual. Since she had no idea what trick he might pull, she had to be cautious in how she dealt with him.
He had even brought out his trump card, the Dragon Blood Runes.
There was no way he would waste such a precious opportunity thoughtlessly.
However, the action Ian took next was enough to make Mitram’s thoughts grind to a halt.
Ian simply collapsed onto the ground.
The result was so abrupt that Mitram froze in her tracks.
"...?"
Mitram wasn't the only one filled with doubt.
The companions watching Ian with startled eyes were equally unable to guess his intent.
And so, silence hung over the forest clearing for a while.
That silence was broken a moment later.
Twitch. Ian’s finger spasmed.
With a groan, the man’s body swayed as it pushed itself up.
He looked down at his hands with a gaze that seemed utterly bewildered.
And in the eyes that scanned the surroundings, there was only a sense of confusion.
As if his personality had changed in that brief moment.
After scanning the area for a while, his gaze stopped on Mitram.
The man, who had looked so full of questions, gave a bitter smile the moment he saw her.
"...Mitram."
He let out a long, deep sigh.
And in the next moment.
Clang. His foot lightly stepped on the sword lying on the ground.
The sword, flipped up by the recoil, landed naturally in the man’s hand.
It was a feat that could only be performed by someone with a profound understanding of not just swordsmanship, but the sword itself.
Light was slowly returning to the man’s golden pupils.
The moment they met that gaze, both Mitram and the companions felt as if their breath had been stolen.
He is strong.
Instinct was screaming a frantic warning. There were very few people who could maintain such a calm demeanor before a fight.
It was something only possible when backed by vast combat experience and absolute confidence in one's own skill.
Mitram swallowed hard, studying the man’s eyes intently.
They were eyes filled with a terrible exhaustion. As if he had endured all the hardships of time and war entirely alone.
With those weary eyes, the man spoke a single sentence with total indifference.
"It's my first time killing the same person twice."
As if he could do so whenever he pleased, if he only set his mind to it.
There wasn't a single shred of emotion in the man’s voice.
His attitude was that of someone reciting a natural fact, like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Mitram would die today.
That was the man’s decision.