Time of Atonement
Sword Master
(An opportunity to break through the realm is required.)
A black sun, laden with black flames, began to eclipse the light above Olaf's head.
"..."
I stared blankly at the sun rising in the dawn sky. It wasn't hot. Even though the blazing sun was so close, it felt no heat at all. Instead, the warmth was gentle, like a cozy embrace, as the sun in the sky devoured the dawn light and scorched everything below. Except for one thing.
"What... is this magic?"
To Olaf, that warmth applied differently. It was a warmth forbidden to him.
Whoosh.
Black flames ignited on Olaf's body, starting from his arms and spreading to his torso. No matter how he thrashed to extinguish them, the unquenchable black flames continued to burn him relentlessly. Black smoke rose. The smell of searing flesh and screams echoed from Olaf's body, which repeatedly repaired and regenerated itself.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
Olaf raised his axe and charged toward the Young Lady. Entering his second phase, his body—now hardened beyond physical limits and free from aging—had become incomparably tougher than before. Yet the Young Lady paid him no mind. She was tired, sure, but he was still an Apostle. His fully unleashed power should have made his youthful flesh impervious to easy harm, but she dismissed his momentum without a glance, checking on my condition instead. She crushed him with sheer indifference. Doing nothing at all.
The Young Lady in her wheelchair reached out to stroke my cheek. Her fingers brushed the wound grazed by Olaf's axe, her expression distant as she spoke to me in a hoarse voice.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"No. More importantly, what is this…."
"It hurts a lot, doesn't it?"
"Young Lady?"
She gazed at me with wistful eyes, ignoring the questions blooming in my chest, her touch filled with worry as she spoke to me like a sulking child.
"I told you not to get hurt."
"I begged you not to get hurt anymore."
"Why won't you listen?"
The Young Lady murmured softly. 'I was so worried...' she whispered, slowly dispersing her mana.
Rumble...
The black sun moved. The massive black sphere began to spin like a rotating celestial body. Olaf advanced toward us, spewing rage, while the Young Lady calmly suppressed him. Burning his legs through the medium of the black flames.
"I'll kill you."
Crash!
Repair, then burn again.
"I'll chop your limbs off, you bitch..."
Crunch...!
She repeated this, toppling him over and over. Behind her, Olaf approached stealthily, axe raised, glaring with murderous intent. His upper clothes burned away, he stood in white shorts, gripping his axe. Swinging it with his muscled arms as if to behead her in one stroke. His clothes, absurdly, didn't burn.
I slowly raised my recovering body, intending to stop him.
Sword Master
└(Unleash an attack to break through the critical point.)
Now I was different from before. Facing a new realm, I thought I could go toe-to-toe with Olaf. But.
Rumble...
The Young Lady wouldn't allow it. She held my cheek gently, as if telling me to stay still, pinning me in place without moving.
Its eyes opened. From the spinning black sun, eyes began to emerge. A thin line appeared in the center of the massive sphere, slowly—ever so slightly—opening.
Drip...
The enormous pupil of the sun revealed itself. Half-lidded as if drowsy, it brimmed with life like a living creature.
Drip...
The sun's pupil moved. Once toward me, staring up at the sky in shock. Once toward the Young Lady, silently glaring at Olaf. Then it blinked at Olaf, whose hands were burning away in the black flames, and widened suddenly.
Screeech...!
The moment the colossal orb—unobscured by clouds—fully opened its eyes, I finally realized what it was.
'Black magic.'
The Young Lady's weapon, thought lost, had reappeared. I'd seen it before. The author's official words.
The monster acknowledged by the author. I'd momentarily forgotten that the Young Lady possessed overwhelming talent in the field of magic. No, I had no choice but to forget. I never imagined she had talent in black magic. Losing her mana, I assumed she couldn't use it—a mistaken judgment. The Young Lady shattered my thoughts effortlessly, unleashing vast black magic to dominate the battlefield.
Blink.
Olaf looked up, meeting the gaze of the massive sun. Overwhelmed by terror that contracted every muscle, he dropped his axe to the ground.
"This... impossible."
He was frozen. The Apostle's powerful body was pinned immobile by the colossal force. Olaf's body. My body. We were crushed by the overwhelming power, silently staring at the sky. In this battlefield now, only the Young Lady could move. The master of the immense black magic opened her eyes coldly, without emotion.
"Ricardo told me not to, so I held back, but..."
Float.
The Young Lady's body lifted from the wheelchair. Overcoming her leg paralysis with black magic, she floated slowly toward the rigid Olaf.
"Because of you, I have to break my promise."
Irritated, she placed her hand on Olaf's heart. Small and delicate against his robust frame, but to Olaf experiencing it directly, it loomed larger and more overwhelming than any hand.
Olaf had felt this sensation exactly once before. Overpowered. The feeling of his heart gripped. After receiving the Pope's hand on his shoulder upon his apostleship, he'd never felt it again. Trembling, Olaf stared at Olivia's hand.
"My god..."
Olivia looked up at Olaf and said,
"I hate you."
"..."
"I hate you so much I want to crush you right here in front of me."
"..."
"So."
Olivia spoke in a cold voice. Colder than any I'd ever heard from her, hand on Olaf's heart.
"Die."
And in that instant.
Cough.
Blood trickled from the Young Lady's mouth.
*
The price of overexerting her power returned to the Young Lady.
"Cough... cough..."
Though gifted with immense black magic and talent, Olivia's body—using it for the first time—couldn't endure. Veins bulged on her hands. The metallic tang filled her mouth. Dizziness threatened unconsciousness. All Olivia could do now was bear the cost of forcing unprepared power.
Using unready power always came with a price.
'Someone who hurts Ricardo deserves death.'
Olivia clenched her fist, suppressing rising fury. But.
"Ugh... it hurts..."
Her body wouldn't obey. Seizing the opening, Olaf swung his axe. Releasing his rigid body, determined to end her in one grab, he moved with sharpened eyes.
"My god. Grant me the chance to smite evil."
I caught the staggering Young Lady and swung my sword. Dodging Olaf's opportunistic axe by a hair, I pulled her tightly into my arms. Breathing steadily, lips bitten hard, she glared at Olaf with bottled rage.
"Ricardo, stay back."
"Young Lady."
"I'll... kill him."
I flicked her forehead and gave a small smile.
"Ow!"
Seeing her pout and grimace, I said softly,
"You'll have to explain yourself when we get home."
"..."
"How long you've been hiding this...!"
Clang!
"You'll have to explain."
I exhaled steadily, seating the Young Lady against the ground. Breathing laboriously, shoulders heaving, she kept maneuvering the massive sun. It seemed this was her limit. So many questions, but the time wasn't right. Gripping my sword, I faced Olaf to end the fight.
Olaf spat a hollow laugh, shaking off fading black flames.
"If I weren't exhausted, I could've killed that girl easily."
I responded to his whining,
"That's true."
No denying it. If Olaf had fought the Young Lady from the start instead of me, he'd have won handily. I could acknowledge his gripe to that extent. But what could be done? Ultimately, he was losing.
Stretching, I said to Olaf,
"I could've killed you ages ago if I weren't soft-hearted."
"All talk, as always..."
Raising my sword toward the monster twisting in black flames, I said,
"That monster. Isn't it the child you revived?"
"..."
"The monster you brought back with black magic—your daughter who died due to your past mistake."
"Want to die?"
"No. Just saying I could've reduced numbers early on too."
Veins bulged on Olaf's forehead. Enraged by the clumsy taunt, he gripped his axe brutishly, stepping toward me.
Looking at him, I delivered the final words.
"Can't you hear your daughter's voice? I can."
"Shut up."
"She's saying it hurts."
I said, watching the monster burn in black flames.
Screeech...!
It hurts...
"Is this truly right?"
"..."
"Your daughter screams in pain, yet you've never once listened."
It wasn't emotional manipulation. Just reciting the line Yuria used to end things with Olaf in the novel.
"Listen to your grieving daughter's voice."
"Listen to your grieving daughter's voice."
"Is this the life your daughter wanted?"
"Is this the life your daughter wanted?"
"Your young daughter adores calling you 'Daddy' even as she's used as your tool... yet you judge her illness incurable, interpret it so, and inflict endless pain?"
Calmly riding the wave of emotion, I raised my sword with resolve. And this, as a possessor who'd seen Olaf's flashbacks, was my final words.
"Your daughter, who couldn't even kill a butterfly, is crying."
Daddy... Daddy...
"Atone."
"To your daughter, not the god you so begged."
My sword gleamed, brimming with crimson-red aura. In the flash filling the battlefield, my blade finally reached Olaf's neck.
Sword Master