Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: The Last Leaf, The First Sapling -6
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If you saw a bird's wings broken as it plummeted toward the ground, you could foresee the pitiful yet certain death of that tiny creature.
Because you know a fall like that is fatal.
Thus, foresight isn't some grand, mystical thing. With enough experience and insight, even a child could do it naturally.
So you, well-versed in the art of battle...
...might not be able to predict if a fine day's stage performance will go off without a hitch.
But you can see the mace hurtling toward you: pitch-black and crimson, its magic compressed to the extreme, giving it the texture of a solid mass at a glance.
That compressed magic could effortlessly obliterate a building—and the impact is beyond what human flesh could endure.
Seconds remain until collision.
You have a way to block the attack, but doing so would sever your last lifeline.
Based on such wisdom—you intuited your death.
The end of every story draws near. The reaper stands before your humble door, waiting to drag you from cherished days into ruthless void.
That void holds but a single period.
Fear stirs. The word "end" harbors infinite unknowns. What becomes of a person after death? Does it truly all just cease...?
No one knows. No one knows death, so none can foresee beyond it.
All you know is your own life. All you can foresee is the extension of that life. In the final moment, all you can contemplate is life itself. Thus...
Before the curtain call...
We shall speak of your cowardly life.
You are a strong person.
You might think yourself weak. But that's not true. For striving while belittling oneself is an exceedingly grueling task.
Efforts to heed your mother's will—daily toil, study, sword swings, filling the Wall of Glory—all prove your strength.
You endured it.
Having withstood that crushing forge, how could you be soft or frail?
Yet...
You never used that strength for yourself, abandoned thoughts of your future, halted when weary without facing yourself, and always fled... Thus, you are a coward.
That evasion is cowardice toward all.
You had hundreds, thousands of chances to live for yourself alone.
Not confined by family, you could have roamed the world freely and found your own answers—from simple joys to pursuing your life's path.
You even had a caring liege who worried for you. But obsessively ignoring your desires led to this: facing life's opposite shore.
Yet still, you gaze at the period, don't you?
Life isn't an endless plummet from high to low. Nor is that where one's full might belongs.
What you should see lies slightly left: the ongoing sentence, and the space between it and the period. Here is your "Wall of Glory," your future's testament.
Cisel Yurensuto.
Even following family will— was your life thus far meaningless?
'No.'
Has death ever terrified you as much as life, or life as much as death?
'Yes.'
Does the sentence of dreaming and living for tomorrow suit you?
'Yes.'
Was the dazzling performance with Karen joyful?
'Yes.'
—Then, do you know this tale? Some branches can be severed, planted in soil, and grown as saplings. Branches can become saplings aplenty.
You've only eyed the leaf dangling at the branch's end. But shift your gaze aside, and in that instant...
That branch was a sapling.
...Still crave the curtain call, Cisel?
.
No, Karen.
I want to fill that space between sentence and period with things I can't even imagine now.
I'll sing vaguely, dance somehow. And if possible, may your name appear often in that paragraph.
It's still frightening. Summoning courage remains hard; I doubt if I truly can. Forgive my frailty. But...
If, as you said, this moment's choice makes the last leaf into the first sapling...
Then I...
Cisel gazed at the incoming mace, summoning her emotions. Emotions outpace things and thoughts. In a world near-stilled, the fable blooms.
Woooom—.
She intones the incantation. Dyes her soul...
Emotions still tint gray, yet now laced with unseen blue. Her soul seems flustered by this novel torrent of feeling. No pain as there should be.
-Become a knight befitting the house.
Bonds strangle the soul.
-Shall we sing together?
Dreams unbind it.
As emotions weave, grip, release—the soul throbs like a pulsing heart, special magic trickling downward from its surface. Magic spreads like paint through her body.
Thus manifests "Heaviness."
And simultaneously, the Faceless's mace plummeted toward her crown.
Thud.
Kwaaaaang—!!
Concentric waves ripple across the ground, the abandoned warehouse walls shrieking then crumbling in spots. The shock reverberates through the earth, reaching far-off souls.
The mace's impact site lay utterly upturned, as if bombed. Soil and stone shards soar skyward, raining down belatedly.
Shooshhh.
Braving the downpour from the earth, Faceless muttered.
"...Superacceleration? Intel said no such ability. No artifacts reported either. No prelude detected."
"........."
The mace missed Cisel.
Only a mangled Zweihander blade lay shattered there.
Cisel appeared at the warehouse's far end. She'd roused Karen, sent her fleeing outside. Near-instantaneous teleportation via hyper-speed dash.
Gripping her halved Zweihander, she aimed it and spoke.
"Heaviness now has direction."
Metamorphosis, 『Life-Clasping Lift』
Directional gravity control unlocked
The extreme power from soul-shaving days was gone, but lessened force allowed self-applied gravity.
Invisible hands lifting her—like that, the instant hyper-move occurred.
Kaang! Roll roll roll.
Faceless kicked away the broken Zweihander blade and said.
"Why bother...? Manifesting your usual gravity blade could've erased half this body."
"I found my path."
"Ah! I see—you're weakened? Deemed you couldn't block my strike outright... so substituted your body. Truly deep affliction, you."
"...You wouldn't understand."
Cisel blinked softly.
Metamorphosis transmuted. Rare anomaly known only by rumor—she'd experience it herself. Odd feeling.
No more prior performance. But the loss didn't sting much. It boosted her fame as Cisel Yurensuto, yet ultimately gnawed her life.
The choice was right.
Now, with newfound metamorphosis... defeat the fiend. That's all.
Flicker.
Cisel's form blinked. A gash rips across Faceless's cheek, hot blood trickling. Swift.
Faceless rubbed the sticky cheek, grumbling.
"...Unpleasant."
Flicker, whoosh.
Each afterimage adds wounds. Calf slashed, hair locks fly. Faceless spins the mace calmly, pondering.
She's losing control.
Perfect speed-direction mastery would've beheaded first. No reason to graze non-vitals.
Just crude shots using the broken Zweihander as aim, firing herself like a bullet. Hoping for lucky vitals.
Grrrrr.
Swish, swish.
Power surges into the mace-grip hand. Recent blow bent it halfway, but one full swing remains. Ignores scratches, waits.
Magic gathers. Crimson-black climbs the warped mace.
Chance comes. Lantern still sways—Cisel's misfortune looms. When she charges at ideal counter-angle...
I'll smash her head sky-high, make her a star.
Slash—!
Expendable puppet. Skin shredding's fine. Ear lopped, fingers gone. Precision rising. Now, left arm—elbow-down—severed.
Yet Foresight Lantern's precision climbs too. Metamorphosis shift tanked progress hard, but... rebuild.
"...Come."
Afterimages grow familiar. Charge speed constant. Calculate right, counter sans misfortune possible.
Come. Hurry. Chance...
And...
Shake.
Invisible lantern shakes.
Perfect flight path into mace arc arrives. Faceless summons full might, swings the vicious magic.
"Annoying fly—die alreadyyy!!"
Craaaack—!!
Aftershock alone lifts scattered planks—potent strike misses again. By a fist's margin.
Hyper-dashing Cisel halts midair, pinned.
"...Now you can stop too. Unfortunate for you."
"Father, why—lantern not activating—"
"Perish forever—!"
Swoosh.
The cleaving is eerily quiet, refined craft.
"Urk, gaaah...!"
Halved Zweihander diagonally rends the puppet. Pull-force erupts from the slash, sucking inward.
Diminished "Heaviness," unleashed internally—irrecoverable fatality. Unsavable. Cubed meat in seconds.
Dying puppet grins. Furious, unfulfilled—but many lives remain.
"...Nex...t... ti...me."
Faceless severs puppet link, eyeing next.
Cisel ends it by hurling Zweihander into the face.
Survived...
"........."
Last leaf didn't fall. Karen saved, she lived. Cisel reeled in surreal fortune.
Fleeting instant—like Karen calling out.
No... burrowing into her heart, whispering directly. Thus, she erased metamorphosis's deadly penalty.
Miracle. Goddess watched?
Cisel cleared debris at her feet, staggered out the warehouse. Distant "Valor" tournament arena visible.
Her finals forfeit meant Mystery Mage X wins by default.
No duplicate entries. Cisel's chance gone. Hero path to longevity tome... over. Fine. Won't die soon; metamorphosis shift halted decline.
Deep soul scars irreversible...
Fine. Even short life—grateful for today. Plan tomorrow. Space before period remains vast.
Sing, befriend, live my life.
Life so full, void ignored.
"...Uh, Cisel? What're you doing here?"
Such vows interrupted. Turned—mad mage.
Owed him. Mediated Northern Warrior clash, aided tournament climb with conveniences.
Black hair, red eyes. If same as Karen's tracker savior—deeper thanks—but doesn't feel it.
"Ah, Mage... sir. Saw you with the prince in the carriage. Any... twin brother...? No, seen a red-haired girl nearby?"
"Not the time, I think. You look tangled in trouble... but everyone's waiting."
"Pardon?"
"Finals. X throwing tantrum for you—delayed still. My prince collab needs your seat for the plan... Hurry?"
Cisel blinked wide-eyed.
Finals not over—
Soul-healing luck still in grasp.
"...!!"
Metamorphosis, 『Life-Clasping Lift』
High-speed aerial dash engaged
Whiiiir—the knight soars skyward. Hasty path crude, sometimes dizzying straight-lines. But fast.
She'll arrive somehow.
Mad mage, hand-shading eyes, watches then saunters off. Now, prepare the epilogue.