76. Forbidden Archive
76. Forbidden Archive
[We were defeated.]
"...Fuck."
I couldn't hold back the curse again.
This isn't Luna's handwriting.
This is... Paulo's handwriting.
Was Luna hurt badly enough that she couldn't write?
I don't know.
[The Demon King is a being beyond the concept of death.]
[Killing it is impossible.]
I ground my teeth.
Paulo hated the word "impossible."
More than hated it—he loathed it so much he didn't even want anyone to know he loathed it.
And that Paulo was saying "impossible."
[If ■■■ and Ronan had been there, would it have been possible?]
[Who knows.]
[Perhaps our defeat was decided from the very beginning.]
"...Don't give me that shit."
Blood seeped from my chewed-up lips.
I wanted to tear these pathetically weak sentences to shreds right then and there. I wanted to track down that pathetic bastard Paulo and shove a knife in his gut.
[Faced with an opponent we could not defeat, we despaired.]
The handwriting changed.
Long, flowing, elegant strokes.
Arisa Eustetia.
[But there was a way.]
But this wasn't written on the spot.
The style reads like someone recalling the past.
[A way to not lose to an opponent we couldn't beat.]
[It would be a little hard, painful, and lonely.]
[But still, we—no.]
[I had no choice but to do it.]
[Because I promised.]
[So we decided to seal the Demon King.]
A promise?
Is she talking about that half-assed will I spat out before I croaked? No. Arisa wouldn't call a will like that a promise.
Fuck... I came into the Forbidden Archive to resolve my questions, and instead the questions just keep piling up.
Grumbling, I turned the page.
And then.
"...Huh?"
I let out a stupid sound.
[It succeeded.]
The end?
There's no middle part?
I flipped back through the pages.
That was the content I'd already read. And after that?
"It succeeded." One line, and that's it.
I blinked, then opened the book a little wider.
I could see traces of torn pages.
It was so meticulously done that you wouldn't even notice unless you looked closely.
"Um, Sir Balamir."
"Yes."
"By any chance, besides His Majesty the Emperor, who else is permitted to enter the Forbidden Archive?"
Balamir, who had been lost in thought for a moment, quietly spoke.
"Like Lady Eliarnes Eustetia, only those who have earned the merit of saving the life of the imperial family, or great figures who have elevated the Empire's prestige, may enter."
"And each time, do you attach an observer like today?"
"Yes."
"Then damage to the information, or anything like that, absolutely, absolutely never happens no matter what?"
"Correct. That is not something even His Majesty the Emperor could easily overlook."
"Hmm... yes. I understand for now."
I wasn't blindly trusting him, but if even the Emperor was reluctant to allow information to be damaged... then I had to assume this journal had already been like this before it entered the Forbidden Archive.
Which means.
Arisa erased the information about Kaloso.
Arisa hid the process of the sealing.
I really want to slap someone.
You hid everything and now you're pulling this shit?
Soothing my increasingly burning insides, I turned to the last page.
The last page.
There was frantic scribbling there.
Not a drawing, not writing, not a pattern, not a spell formula.
Just rough, haphazard scribbles.
I know what this is.
When we faced Ankanius of Envy.
It was a language we created among ourselves to deceive that bastard's eyes that were spread across the whole world—a language only we in this world could recognize.
I blinked.
Mana gathered in my eyes. I spun it as hard as I could.
My eye sockets ached and blood vessels burst.
I kept spinning it without a care. Tears streamed down. They were thick. It felt like they were mixed with droplets of blood.
Even so, I didn't close my eyes.
And when the "filter" was complete.
*****
The scenery changed.
A red sky. Dead earth.
A sky that looked ready to pour blood at any moment, and barren land where not a single living thing could be found.
Ge Vihenum.
The Demon World came into view.
...An illusion? A dream?
I wiggled my fingers.
There was a sensation of movement.
I bit the tip of my tongue.
A vivid taste of blood.
I opened my mouth and let out a voice.
The sound... wouldn't come out.
This wasn't a dream. It was an illusion.
Illusion Magic?
An ambush from Balamir standing behind me?
No way.
Someone incomparably stronger than Balamir—the captain of Nameless—was standing right beside me.
There was no way anyone could have cast Illusion Magic on me with an opponent like that next to me.
Besides, Balamir was a swordsman. There was no way he could wield Illusion Magic of this level.
No, in the first place... I.
To interpret the language we created...
Interpretation of the language.
Illusion.
Just as my thoughts reached that point.
Far in the distance, flames rose up.
Not ordinary flames.
Pure white flames. Flames so bright they could blind you, sacred flames.
'Holy Flame.'
The moment I realized the identity of those flames.
*
The scenery changed.
'...What a fucking nasty prank.'
I saw a woman with pure white hair and pure white eyes. She was crying, even though she looked like you couldn't draw a single drop of blood from her if you stabbed her with a sword.
She was crying her eyes out.
Those eyes that used to smile like a fox were pouring out tears.
A voice with no trace of its usual nobility was letting out agonized sobs.
Luna.
Luna Sacred Pnasensia.
Beside her.
There was a man with his shaggy hair let loose.
The man had three swords hanging at his waist.
He should only be carrying two.
A crude sword, and a needlessly ornate sword.
But there was one more now.
The sword I used to use.
The voice and way of speaking that used to be all swagger was nowhere to be found, and he was spitting curses.
Still, maybe he had to keep up appearances—his eyes were burning red from holding back tears.
Paulo.
Paulo Humble Frandis.
Beside him.
There was a woman with pink hair.
Her hair was tied in a ponytail. Her clear pink eyes were so transparent you could see through them.
Her hands were wrapped in bandages. The bandages were soaked in blood, dripping with it.
She hasn't been in a fight. She just clenched her fists so hard the skin split.
She was crying.
With the face that always smiled, the face that laughed as if she were happier than anyone in the world.
She was crying more sorrowfully than anyone.
Arisa.
Arisa Eustetia.
The Holy Flame those three were surrounding.
At the center of the Holy Flame, there was a human corpse.
Short-cropped hair.
A large scar across the face.
A face with a filthy impression even with its eyes closed.
There was a hole in its gut.
The innards didn't spill out, because all the innards that would have spilled out had rotted and crumbled away.
No blood came out either. All the blood that had been circulating in the body had evaporated.
And yet, that fucking bastard.
He was grinning. He had died smiling.
Ronan.
Ronan Luzarak.
'Ha, haha...'
This isn't... a randomly fabricated illusion or a dream.
This. This scene, the appearance of those people.
It was a memory... of the past.
That memory was unfolding like an illusion.
They pulled a really fucking nasty prank.
Still, well...
Seeing that fox Luna bawling.
Paulo dropping his swagger.
Arisa's dead-serious face.
It's... not as bad as I thought.
Actually, it's a little funny.
It has to be funny.
Otherwise, I don't think I'll be able to control my emotions.
"...Sorry, I'm sorry, Ronan. I didn't want to burn your body... your body, I didn't want to burn your body, I really... really didn't want to, but seeing your body... come back to life... I felt like I was going to go insane... I'm sorry, sorry... I'm sor-ry..."
I could hear Luna muttering as she sank to the ground.
"Ronan. Ronan Luzarak. You are... you are weaker than me. We made a bet. We agreed that whoever died first would admit they were weaker. And twenty-six years after that promise was made, you died first. You damn bastard. You were... always ahead of me. You bought time, killed the most Demons, and were the only human... feared by the Demons. But you died before me. So you are... weaker than me..."
Paulo mutters like a man out of his mind.
Has he actually lost his mind?
Toward the end, he probably really was going back and forth.
Anyway, this fucking bastard is still claiming he's stronger even in this situation—
"You were... stronger than me. Recently... it was all I could do just to keep up with your movements."
Oh...? I only find that out after I'm dead?
"That's fucking—Ronan only got like that because that idiot burned his own life, you fucking bastard Paulo. Because you kept praising him, saying he was strong, strong all the time, Ronan... that moron... *hic*... actually believed he was strong... and died..."
Oh ho? Look at this cheeky bitch?
"It's, it's my fault. If only... if only I had been a little stronger... if only I hadn't been stupid, if only I'd noticed just a little... sooner... *sob*..."
Hmm, that's wrong.
No matter how strong Arisa was, she definitely couldn't have blocked Kaloso's final attack.
And why are they even arguing about who was at fault among themselves? If that fucking bastard Kaloso hadn't pulled his shit, none of this would have happened.
These people really are idiots.
While I chuckled at the sudden argument.
Luna's tears soaked the ground, Arisa's blood vanished into the Holy Flame, and Paulo's curses echoed softly.
Even so, my corpse kept burning.
The limbs disappeared, the body crumbled, and even the ashes burned up in the Holy Flame and vanished.
Seeing that leaves a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth.
But what can you do.
If my corpse had remained, Gluttony—that fucking thing—would have chewed up my corpse and become uncontrollably stronger.
So it couldn't be helped.
They made a reasonably wise choice.
A moment later, the Holy Flame went out.
*
The scenery changed.
A pure white snowfield spread out.
In a blizzard that erased everything, footprints were stamped into the snow. When I lifted my head, cherry blossoms were blooming there.
Arisa Eustetia.
I could see her from behind.
Her trademark ponytail was completely undone, her hair let loose like a madwoman's.
She walked through the snowfield.
In her arms were a dozen or so weapons.
My weapons. Weapons with Arisa's name written on them.
From behind, she looked like a hedgehog.
Did I look like that when I walked around?
Did I look like a hedgehog to other people too?
To suppress the emotions bubbling up for no reason, I deliberately thought of something funny.
Even so, the emotions don't easily subside.
Arisa kept walking.
Weapons fell, she stumbled, she was unsteady, but her steps didn't stop.
After a while, Arisa collapsed.
Reflexively, my feet moved forward.
*
The scenery changed again.
The Imperial Capital. I could see the Imperial Capital, which had nearly been destroyed by the Demon invasion, being rebuilt.
Arisa walked through the streets of that Imperial Capital.
She wasn't empty-handed. She was carrying the weapons of mine she'd brought earlier. Looking like a hedgehog, she walked.
Where those steps led was the southern part of the Imperial Capital.
The place with the lowest ground, where the sewage gathers.
The far end of that place.
Arisa entered through a massive iron door.
*
The scenery changed.
Somewhere underground.
A wide cavern.
Looking at Arisa, it seemed quite a bit of time had passed. How long had she walked? If even Arisa was that exhausted, she must have walked for a very long time.
Arisa, standing at the center of the cavern, planted the weapons she brought into the ground one by one.
Then she placed a large rock she'd picked up somewhere at the center and began smashing it with her fists.
Boom, boom, boom.
Vibrations strong enough to shake the ground echoed.
One hour, two hours, three hours.
After five hours, the rock became a tombstone.
The rock didn't seem to be an ordinary rock either.
Blood was flowing from Arisa's fists—fists that could burst a Demon's skin with bare hands.
Even so, Arisa paid no mind and carved letters into the rock.
Watching her dig them out one by one with her fingers was both pathetic and laughable, but it was also harrowing.
Even as her nails broke and her skin peeled away, she steadfastly carved the letters.
The letters carved like that were simple.
Ronan Luzarak.
A tombstone with my name written on it.
My weapons surrounding it.
Arisa was making my grave.
A grave with no body.
A grave with no grass, no sunlight, nothing.
A grave that stank, was dark, and was damp.
It was a truly pathetic grave, but I quite liked it.
I liked it, I definitely liked it, but strangely, I couldn't breathe.
As if someone were strangling me.
Is it because of the sewer smell?
That must be it.
It was the sewer smell that made breathing so fucking awful.
I forced my trembling lips upward.
Meanwhile, Arisa finished the grave.
Looking at it, she stroked the tombstone with my name carved on it and smiled.
At least in the illusion I saw.
She smiled for the first time.
But that smile isn't satisfying.
Do the wounds on her fists hurt?
Because it stinks? Because it's dark? Because there are rats?
Because it's crawling with the bugs she hated so much?
The smile was incredibly bitter, suffocating, and sorrowful.
"Ronan."
A clear voice echoed through the cavern.
"Ronan. Ronan. Ronan Luzarak."
Arisa, who had been stroking the tombstone with her tattered hands, placed the odds and ends she'd brought in her arms in front of the tombstone.
Elixirs, potions, unknown books.
A subspace pouch, gold coins, Mana Stones, jewels.
Red shards, leaves, branches.
Cherry blossoms.
After setting everything down, Arisa caught her breath for a moment.
Then she turned around.
She looked straight in my direction.
Can she... can she see me?
No way.
It's just... a coincidence. It must be.
It has to be.
That crazy bitch smiled.
"Ronan."
She spoke while smiling.
"I miss you so much."
I, I...
I smiled and spoke, just like Arisa.
"Crazy bitch. Don't say creepy shit like that."
At the same time.
"...Ehehe. You shouldn't say mean things with such a cute face."
"...What?"
"But still... yeah. As expected, Ronan is Ronan."
A clear droplet fell from Arisa's eyes.
"You're the Ronan I know this time too... I'm glad."
The illusion shattered.