Chapter 95
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: Play (5)
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Craaaaaang—!
The prince's broadsword and the bard's dagger clashed for the first time.
From that moment, something was off. The explosive impact and the ringing sword cry were far too intense.
Of course, they were Endex seniors. Not like ordinary folk who viewed real blades as perilous, they had chosen actual swords deliberately for sharper visual flair.
───!
Even so, James in the prince role was unnaturally bizarre. His movements were grotesque, as if his muscles and joints operated independently. Like an emotionless puppet, he was literally just "beating" on Elise.
"Seems a bit too rough. On purpose, right?"
The staff brushed it off as mere ad-libbing, but I activated the SZX-9500 Mana Optics Microscope. My brow furrowed.
Sure enough.
A bug-like mana entity clung to the prince's crown. It was tethered by a strand of mana to somewhere in the audience, and tracing it back led straight to...
Noah Lucille, clutching some kind of voodoo doll.
That mad bastard.
"I'll head out first."
"Huh? No, the Duke's cue is later."
The Duke's entrance was originally next—after the bard slew the prince, structured as him witnessing the scene.
Ching—!
But there was no time to spare. The dagger had just flown from Elise's grip, and the prince was still blankly hoisting his sword high.
With enough force to split a skull.
I dashed onstage in a flash. I yanked Elise toward me and intercepted the prince's broadsword. I deflected it hard with a grating slide.
Tzzzzzt—!
The prince staggered back, but with that same dazed expression, he gripped his sword anew.
I needed to subdue him without killing.
I deployed Forward Sword.
A blade that advanced only straight ahead. I focused it to a single point.
Shhht—!
A restrained, compressed thrust—no fanfare. It bored a hole right through the flat of the prince's blade. The broadsword's core hollowed out, crumbling like sand and scattering shards everywhere. The debris caught the stage lights, flashing in a riot of colors.
To the audience, it probably looked like elaborate staging.
With his sword shattered, the prince slowly lost consciousness.
"...Phew."
I caught my breath. My heart was hammering. Just recreating that one stroke, and it felt like my heart might burst.
I turned back to Elise. Her mask was already torn, her wounded cheek pressed against my chest.
Her cheeks were quite plump—like a squished steamed bun. Or was it swelling?
"...So it was you."
I said to her. It was the Duke's line.
The staging and flow had shifted dramatically, but pressing on like this shouldn't affect the ending.
Elise shoved me away with both hands. She slipped back into the bard's role and continued the dialogue.
"How long have you known, Duke?"
I sheathed my sword at my waist.
"Doesn't matter when. I have no intention of stopping you."
The bard's cheek quivered faintly. Now it resembled sticky rice cake.
"I propose a deal."
"...A deal?"
The bard echoed back with a grave look.
"Yes. No different from your performance. Just sword-dancing to song."
I pointed a finger at my own chest.
"I get what I want."
Then pointed at the bard.
"You complete your revenge."
Completion of revenge.
To me, it sounded rather romantic.
"I'll lend you my sword. Sharper than that dagger."
"... ."
The bard steadied her breath quietly before replying.
"...Fine. Gladly. I'll become your sword."
With that line, the stage went dark for a moment.
I whispered to Elise right before my eyes.
-Is your hand okay?
Elise replied.
-Focus on the acting. It's the climax now.
Onstage, the silver curtain projected scenes from the past.
─...Your Majesty the Queen. Word is the maid Isabel has received His Majesty's favor.
A flashback revealing the bard as the king's illegitimate child, unveiled to the audience.
─Your Majesty, please... let me at least keep the child...
The bard's mother, Isabel, on her knees begging the queen.
─If you truly honor His Majesty, end yourself. You are unworthy of bearing a child.
But the queen, with venomous fury, commanded her death. Isabel fled into the night with a servant's aid.
She birthed the bard in a village far from the capital and spent twelve years there together, but...
─A seditious seed lingers. Isabel. Find her and the child—kill them.
Right after the prince's ascension. To nip any future threats, the queen dispatched hunters once more.
─Kill them all!
The village ablaze. The queen's knights slaughtered not just Isabel, but every soul there—the bard's neighbors, friends, even siblings.
─Hic...!
Mother Isabel, stabbed through the chest in the cabin, breathed her last.
Beneath the floorboards, the young bard witnessed it all vividly. Two eyes shedding tears of blood...
Back to the present, in the heart of the palace.
The bard gazed across the stage at the queen. Countless knights stood between them, blocking her path.
"Now... the final lyrics of my performance."
The bard sang La Vercit—"Lonely You"—to them all.
The Latynel ballad resonated from between her teeth.
A mystical timbre overlaid on ominous rhythm filled the theater, gradually building the drama.
At last.
"...How was my final performance?"
After a song of just over three minutes. The bard looked at the bowing king and asked.
"Father."
"Your father is already dead. Can't you see?"
The queen spoke. She lifted the king's face herself. His complexion was already purple, his neck blackened.
A faint ripple stirred in the bard's eyes.
"You killed him. Your base thirst for revenge devoured even your own father."
The bard gripped her dagger with what seemed a smile.
"...Good. No need to dirty my hands myself."
She stomped the floor. Swinging her dagger at the knights trying to block her, she charged toward the queen.
As the play reached its finale, the palace was awash in knights' blood and corpses. Everywhere the eye fell was hell.
Amid it, the queen glared at the bard, her face hardening.
"...Filthy wench. You've colluded with the Duke."
Outside the palace, the Duke aided the bard's vengeance.
No— the Duke raced toward his own ambitions.
The queen cried out to the bard.
"You're being deceived!"
The bard approached silently. Thick blood squelched underfoot with each step. She slipped her blade into the queen's throat as she tried to speak.
"You're... being... decei... ved... ugh..."
Even in death throes, the queen raked her nails across the bard's neck. The bard watched her demise with wide eyes.
"...Guh... urk..."
The queen spat blood onto her own face and toppled backward.
Her pulse had already faded.
Thus... was revenge complete?
"... ."
The bard stared at her gore-soaked hands. Her eyes were already steeped in emptiness.
"It's over. Truly."
She murmured like a sigh, then raised the dagger that slew the queen—gripping it reversed toward her own heart...
─...Cro Bricscal.
In that instant, an a cappella Latynel ballad hummed forth.
A brief hum, just over thirty seconds, in perfect pronunciation.
The bard turned weakly toward it.
It was the Duke.
He strode in majestically and took the throne. Surveying the blood- and body-strewn palace, he muttered.
"Nice view."
The bard said dryly to him.
"You've gotten what you wanted."
"Indeed."
The Duke's body was as bloodied and scarred as the bard's.
"Bard, have you gotten what you wanted?"
At the question, the bard rose. She started to reply, then froze cold.
"... ."
The bard stared vacantly at the Duke's sword.
Suddenly, the silver curtain behind rewound the past.
The death of mother Isabel, viewed from beneath the cabin floorboards.
The sword that pierced her heart.
Identical to the one the Duke now gripped.
The bard looked up at the Duke in a daze. Suppressing swirling rage and grief, she spoke.
"...It was you."
The Duke gazed down at her calmly.
His silence was confession enough.
"It was a rainy day like today, probably."
He remained calmly composed—a confession nonetheless.
Flames surged in the bard's eyes.
"Bard. No need to agonize. Your revenge is complete. Now die as the traitor."
The bard ground her teeth. She growled like a beast.
"You knew who I was from the start."
She twisted the self-destructive sword toward the Duke instead.
"...Yes. I knew at a glance."
The Duke met her gaze and rose.
"What you intended to do. Who you were."
"And yet..."
Tears streamed down the bard's face. Seeing her grief, the Duke twisted his lips.
"Good thing I spared you. You served as my pawn so willingly."
"Shut up—!"
The bard lunged with her blade raised. The Duke drew his sword.
Clang—! Clang—! Clang—!
A desperate clash.
Swords intertwined, blood sprayed, bones ground in fierce duel.
Mobilizing every trick with the silver curtain, the final showdown blazed in splendor.
Craaaaaang—!
At last, a sound that seemed to shatter the theater.
After the brutal duel, the Duke's sword soared skyward. The bard seized the opening.
She thrust into the Duke's heart.
Kwachuk—!
The Duke seized the bard's hair, but she twisted the embedded blade.
"...Kuh!"
The Duke's heart was destroyed. The bard glared at him as he vomited blood. Eyes laced with venomous hatred.
"You..."
Yet the Duke felt nothing. No fear of death, no rage at the bard.
Still impassive, he spoke to her.
"...Think you can survive in this country?"
The bard tried to withdraw the sword from his heart.
"If you think so..."
The Duke wouldn't allow it. Clutching the blade piercing his own heart, he leaned to her ear.
"Don't lose."
In the end, the bard released her grip first. In dying rasp, the Duke murmured.
"Don't heed fools who claim revenge leaves nothing. They're the ones scheming to rob you of your most vital prize."
At those words, a strange hue tinged the bard's eyes. Utterly unlike the void of her suicidal gaze.
The Duke nodded, seemingly pleased.
"Don't die. You... didn't fail."
Soon, he shoved the bard away. She staggered back, slumping against the throne.
"You've won. Don't look back."
The bard turned silently.
Leaving the Duke there, she walked out of the palace.
Without once glancing behind.