Chapter 208
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 208
Chapter Title: Just, a Common Story
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"No way!"
The moment he heard those words,
what burst from Carl's mouth was an almost instinctive denial, a desperate bid to cling to his own common sense.
"She—Countess Sierra CiSerpent—stepped up to stop the Demon God and died in the process!"
"That's the official story, yes."
Rose nodded readily.
Then, in a low voice, she added,
"But as you know, Duke Carl, fabricating the truth isn't exactly rocket science."
"……!"
Was it because he himself had a history of twisting the truth?
His face twisted in discomfort.
Unable to refute her outright, Carl could only listen as Rose calmly recounted the tale from the past.
When the Demon God that had ravaged Europe extended its demonic claws even to the Great British Empire,
Sierra, the Azure Dragon Princess of that era, could hardly have stood by and watched.
The CiSerpent family had been guardians of the Empire at the time, and the fate of their homeland London was a matter that would determine the rise or fall of the Azure Dragon Clan itself.
But the Demon God back then was a truly divine being—one that even Rimon had felled only after a grueling deathmatch.
And even after resurrection from death, it had razed countless European cities, growing only stronger.
Blocking such a Demon God with the Azure Dragon Clan's power alone was impossible.
Asking the Seven Dragon Society for help wouldn't have changed that; no one would stake their clan's survival on it.
In that dire dilemma, there was only one person in London at the time willing to lend Sierra their strength.
"So the witches of the 27 Magical Lineages stepped up to stop the Demon God... because Sierra convinced them from the start?"
"Yes."
The Azure Dragon Clan and the 27 Magical Lineages were mortal enemies by nature.
Their grudge ran as deep as that between Rimon and the Seven Dragon Society.
It was the Azure Dragon Clan's founder, the Righteous Azure Dragon Lord of Virtue, who had toppled the Ladies of the Lake at the end of the Silver Age, after all.
Yet Sierra's heartfelt plea, combined with the common foe of the Demon God, led the 27 Magical Lineages to set aside their ancient grudge and join hands with the Azure Dragon Clan.
And to stop the Demon God, they decided on one measure:
The London Great Ward.
It was the Silver Age's mightiest spell—the one that had allowed the Ladies of the Lake to hold off the Righteous Azure Dragon Lord of Virtue for years—that offered their only hope against the Demon God.
The witches of the 27 Magical Lineages had been able to gather nine divine relic-level magical tools only thanks to the Azure Dragon Clan's aid.
But even with the clan's power and wealth, there was one thing they could never obtain.
The price of magic.
In the Silver Age, when gods still lingered on earth, that might have been possible.
But in the Heroes Age, where meeting a god directly was difficult outside Jerusalem, there was no way to pay the toll for the London Great Ward.
"Even offering every scrap of 'price' the 27 Magical Lineages had amassed over a millennium wasn't enough to activate the Great Ward."
"That's why, as you said, Duke Carl, they had no choice but to pay the shortfall with human sacrifice."
"Of course, sacrificing the people in the name of protecting them is a contradiction—a sin."
"But fortunately, at that time in London, there was someone who could pay the price for the London Great Ward without committing that contradiction or sin."
Rose paused for a moment.
Then she stared straight into Carl's ashen face.
"Someone who didn't force sacrifice on others, who could resolve everything with their own life alone."
Perhaps because the words were so unimaginable,
Carl, frozen like a statue, finally rasped out after a long delay,
"So... Countess Sierra sacrificed herself? To complete the London Great Ward without sacrificing the citizens?"
"Yes."
"Nonsense! What ruler in the world would do something so absurd!"
Carl shouted in desperation.
"You're right. A power-hungry type like you would never."
Rimon chuckled in agreement.
With one caveat.
"Unless they were an Azure Dragon Clan princess."
"……."
A ruler who sees even fellow humans merely as tools to maintain power would never sacrifice for others.
But the Azure Dragon Clan, who cherished people like beloved pets rather than tools, would gladly give their lives for their subjects.
Carl couldn't deny Rimon's mocking words.
As a Briton himself, he knew all too well what the Azure Dragon Clan was like.
So he shifted his line of attack.
"You expect me to believe one person's life could pay the price for such an outrageous spell? Does that even make sense!"
"It does."
Ciel brushed off his objection in a languid tone.
"That's what a princess of the Seven Dragon Society is."
In this era where gods had become relics of dusty myths and spirits mere outdated tools,
how could the life of a princess inheriting nearly a millennium of pure dragon blood—the world's most noble lineage—compare to that of an ordinary human?
Carl ground his teeth at Ciel's nonchalant explanation.
"……Then what about all the missing people who vanished during Twilight Hours over the years?"
"Why ask me?"
"Don't play dumb! If they weren't offerings to the London Great Ward, where did all those missing people go!"
Carl's beard quivered with rage.
But when Rimon spoke indifferently, he froze solid.
"This world or the next, I suppose."
"……What?"
"Look, you're operating under the assumption that 'people go missing because of the Twilight Hours.' Have you ever properly verified that?"
Carl stared blankly at Rimon's casual question.
"Verified?"
"Whether those disappearances really happened because of the Twilight Hours."
"What kind of ridiculous—!"
Carl furrowed his brow.
To a Briton—especially a Londoner—that was common sense.
Rimon twisted his lips at the man.
"Yeah? Then do you know the average daily number of missing persons in a metropolis like London with ten million people?"
"In London alone, it's five or six a day..."
"No, not London. Other big cities."
"……."
He had no idea.
He'd spent his life researching magic skills and seeking a way to end the Twilight Hours, with zero interest in mundane statistics.
The little he knew was only from a rough investigation to use against Rose.
Meanwhile, the former PAB agent Rimon answered without hesitation.
"In cities with over ten million people, the average is dozens per day."
"In well-policed areas, most are just runaways. In high-crime spots, human trafficking and such are the culprits."
"Compared to other places, doesn't London's missing persons rate seem kinda low? Especially for a place with fog that supposedly eats people?"
"……What are you getting at."
"What, it's simple."
Carl's face hardened.
Rimon let out a smirk.
"The idea that people vanish during Twilight Hours is just fabricated nonsense."
The London Great Ward was magic to protect people, after all.
Though an artificial afterlife of sorts, it only drew in the souls of the dead.
It never had the effect of making the living disappear.
Carl's hands trembled as he listened to Rimon's calm words.
"……Fabricated... nonsense?"
"Yeah."
"So all the past disappearances had nothing to do with the fog—everything was just pinned on the Twilight Hours?"
"Pretty much."
"Impossible! Who the hell would spread such lies, and for what gain!"
Carl bellowed, veins bulging on his forehead.
To him, who'd lived his whole life hearing terrifying Twilight Hour tales as a Londoner, Rimon's words sounded like blasphemy.
"Us."
"We did."
"What?"
But Rose and Ciel calmly shattered his worldview.
"Creating the urban legend that people vanish during Twilight Hours was the work of our CiSerpent family and the 27 Magical Lineages."
It felt like a mace to the back of the head.
No, more like a missile strike.
To daze the mind of a lord-class player like him, it'd take that level of shock.
"Why? No—how?"
As if unable to believe this was reality, he asked blankly, and Rose explained matter-of-factly.
"It was the price to maintain the London Great Ward—and compensation for the 27 Magical Lineages."
"Compensation?"
"Compared to the Silver Age, the London Great Ward from the Demon God War was unstable and incomplete."
"Obviously. It was something even the Ladies of the Lake barely completed with divine help—we just barely reconstructed parts of it with all sorts of hacks."
"And in the process, the 27 Magical Lineages exhausted all the 'mystery' they'd accumulated over a millennium as payment."
"So we needed to replenish that 'fate' somehow."
"To keep the London Great Ward ready for unknown future threats..."
"And for the 27 Magical Lineages to carry on."
Carl's face twisted in confusion as Rose and Ciel spoke in turn.
If his earlier reaction had been shock and disbelief at the unexpected revelation, now it was suspicion and doubt.
"Fate? Mystery? What are you talking about?"
He looked as if he'd been handed some complex riddle,
unable to hide his bewilderment. Ciel smirked, as if she'd expected as much.
"I figured as much... but damn, you're clueless. You've got some major misconceptions about magic."
"Misconceptions about what?"
"I'm talking about how you strut around acting like you know everything about magic when you know jack shit."
Ciel sneered.
It was laughable from the start—believing a mere tens of thousands of lives would suffice as the price for the London Great Ward.
Well, maybe it was unavoidable.
Though born in the Heroes Age, Carl was a man who thrived in the Iron Age.
A lord too accustomed to using skills without cost, to quantifying human lives as levels and stats.
That's why the primordial witch, who had lived since the Silver Age, mocked him.
"The 'price of magic' you keep harping on has nothing to do with worldly prices or values."
Magic was the power to cheat providence.
To put it in perspective: a priest's magic was a crime the police turned a blind eye to.
A black mage's was a heinous offense guaranteeing execution if caught.
And a witch's was a gray-area crime slipping through legal loopholes to evade judgment.
The key was that, like a criminal paying fines or bail, violating providence required an equivalent price.
But the world's providence didn't take money.
It accepted only three things.
"What matters are the scales of providence: 'karma,' the weight 'fate,' and the 'mystery' used to fool the scales."
That was why witches and mages ran circuses.
Priests had gods cover their fines, black mages dumped sins on others—but witches needed to gather 'karma,' 'fate,' and 'mystery' like paying for an expensive lawyer.
Or consume items imbued with them.
That's why they were inherently mystics and secretive.
By hiding secrets and acting mysteriously, they evaded providence's gaze, casting stronger spells for less cost.
For example...
"Isn't it ironic? The fear and mystique around this Twilight Fog has been the driving force protecting people all this time."
Ciel smiled meaningfully.
Carl's face twisted at her words.
"The Twilight Fog... protected people?"
"Yes."
Rose affirmed calmly.
The ghosts of London during Twilight Hours never harmed people.
If anything, the opposite.
They guided the lost, blocked criminals, warned of dangers—like sentinels.
Unless the Great Ward unleashed its full power, that was the extent of what they could do.
But even that had safeguarded London countless times.
Even Edward, the Liberation Brigade's specter, couldn't act freely because the shadow monsters he summoned were bound during Twilight Hours.
"Of course, Twilight Hours aren't omnipotent. They can't prevent careless accidents, disappearances, or deliberate crimes."
As a veteran of the Demon God War,
and knowing the Azure Dragon Clan's nature and magic inside out,
Rimon had seen through the London Great Ward's truth from the beginning, without needing to be told. He added casually,
"And one of those was your daughter."
Thanks to Wailing's investigation, he'd learned Carl lost his daughter during Twilight Hours, and he'd reviewed the details thoroughly after.
So Rimon could state with certainty:
Even without some grand Twilight Hour magic, losing a child was commonplace.
That kid had simply gone off to live—or die—somewhere else.
Eliminating Twilight Hours wouldn't bring her back.
In a flat, emotionless voice, Rimon eyed the dazed Carl and drawled to a close,
"In the end, you were just one of those ordinary parents desperate to shove the blame for losing their kid onto someone else."