Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Butterfly's Dream (4)
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*
Fabiano hadn't sustained a single injury. Through a total of seventy-three fierce clashes, Fernandez hadn't landed even one effective blow with his bare hands.
He hadn't intended to subdue him from the start, anyway. Fabiano clenched and unclenched his fist amid a fatigue and helplessness he could no longer count, then clenched it again as he leaned against the alley wall and gazed at Fernandez.
"Shall we go for a hundred?"
"Hah... Hah..."
It felt like his lungs were being torn apart. He had definitely felt like he was fighting during the battles. He had sensed techniques clashing, flesh striking and pushing back. Yet, in those decisive moments, it was as if time rewound—Fernandez would appear unscathed at the far end of the alley.
"You cowardly... bastard!"
"How could a mage hope to face an Inquisitor in an upright contest?"
"Talk is...!"
"Anyway, time's a waste."
Dawn was breaking in the distance. The midnight brawl had dragged on until morning. Fabiano panted as he watched the blue tint creep into the autumn sky.
"The villagers... were in on it too...!"
"I put them to sleep. They'll sleep soundly for a day."
Rural mornings start early. No one could have slept through such noisy combat all night. Fabiano swallowed dryly and glared at Fernandez.
Fernandez shrugged his shoulders and said,
"If you're done fighting, shall we talk now?"
"...What do you want to say?"
"An alliance proposal."
"...What?"
Fabiano glared at him with the eyes of a wounded beast. Fernandez slowly approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel every muscle in Fabiano's body tense beneath his palm.
If this guy lands a blow, I won't be able to dodge it. But he knew Fabiano wouldn't attack again.
"I've quit black magic. Well, to be precise, I've cut ties with those you call heretical cultist apostate scum. So, we share a common enemy."
"Should I believe that?"
"I'll swear on my mana circuits if you want. Or if there's another way, I'm more than willing to comply."
"...Why?"
Fabiano was plunged into confusion. Was this black mage toying with him again? Or trying to corrupt him? During his long service, countless Inquisitors had fallen to demons and apostatized.
What if he became one of them? There could be nothing more dishonorable. But were there other options? As he thought that, Fernandez chuckled and removed his hand from Fabiano's shoulder. As if reading his mind, he said,
"Right. Is there another way? Whether you believe me or not, you can't kill me."
"I don't trust you, black mage."
"True. But I won't kill you either."
"What do you gain? Betraying your fellow heretics—what do you get out of it?"
At those words, Fernandez's eyes darkened.
"One of two things. A happy life, or a grand thought experiment."
If this moment was reality, he could settle down after success, build a family, live peaceful and happy days, and spend the rest of his life that way.
But if not—if this was all his dream, an illusion, a massive spell woven by Mumto—then it would become a thought experiment. A practical study on methods to exterminate demons.
"So, convey my proposal to the Inquisition and the Papal Court. Go. I'll let you leave unharmed. And next time, come with Zephys or Beorn."
"...!!!"
Fabiano recoiled in shock, staring at Fernandez like he'd seen a ghost. He stammered for words, then turned his head away.
Fernandez crossed his arms, watching Fabiano's slumped back as he departed. At least one thing had changed from his previous life: Aria's family and her hometown hadn't burned.
And he'd spared her a handful of life's pains.
'I'll carry it all, Aria. Your pain, your sorrow, your joys and sorrows. Even if this is an illusion, mere self-consolation on my part. At least let it count as atonement.'
*
Aria opened the dormer window and brushed the dust off the sill. She kept glancing at Fernandez, who was deliberately stirring his teacup with a spoon in hot milk, coughing loudly enough to be heard.
Fernandez flipped through an old tome, sipping his milk-laced black tea. It was an utterly infuriating posture. He hummed leisurely as he turned the pages.
"You... you... rotten old man."
"Tut, Aria. My dear pupil. Respect and reverence for your master grow ever scarcer these days. Back in my time..."
"Ugh!!"
Aria threw the duster to the floor and plopped down across from Fernandez. Without even looking at her, he snapped his fingers.
-Splish.
Warm milk filled her empty cup. Aria huffed, let out a heavy sigh, and gulped down the milk.
"There, milk's good for growth."
"I'm twenty-three now, you know?"
"At twenty-three, I grew three centimeters a year."
"You... ugh!"
Aria fumed as she drained the milk. Fernandez chuckled and closed his book. He gently stroked her soft hair.
Aria blushed, lowered her head slightly, and murmured in a small voice.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you... no, why as my guardian? Teacher, where do you want to send me?"
"Well, somewhere you can get a better education?"
Aria looked up at him with sad eyes. The last shred of what could be called Fernandez's conscience leaped wildly.
"It's a bit awkward saying it myself, but Aria, I have connections with quite renowned scholars in the Empire. Study under my recommendation, and you could become an excellent apothecary, alchemist—or even a mage if you wish."
"Better than you, Teacher?"
"No?"
"Then why?"
"They're in better environments and teach even better."
Fernandez smirked arrogantly. Aria stared at him silently for a moment, then looked down at her empty teacup.
-Splish.
The cup filled again before her eyes. Warm milk swirled inside, and in its center, chocolate cream bloomed like a flower.
"Another cup? Isn't it what you liked?"
"...Maybe at fourteen."
"I was thirty-nine when I first tasted milk, and I've been hooked ever since."
Their meeting in the barn. The image of Aria approaching the haggard Fernandez after long pursuit and flight, offering warm milk, formed atop the milk with the chocolate cream.
Aria held her breath, watching the little puppet show in the teacup. Without lifting her head, she said,
"Why send me away?"
"I've told you the reason."
"Am I a nuisance?"
"Even after a lifetime, how could you be?"
"Or... not needed anymore..."
"You're not a 'needed' existence to me, Aria."
At his words, Aria stared blankly into his eyes with a wounded expression. As if she might burst into tears any second, Fernandez slowly lowered his hand. Snap—lightly flicking his fingers.
-Splish.
Bubbles rose, and the chocolate cream fully bloomed like a flower. No scent, but she knew the flower well. Freesia. Fernandez quietly said to Aria, who gazed dazedly at the cup,
"You are enough for me."
"...That's cheating. Totally."
"So, leave for now. Just for a while."
"How long?"
"Well, it's my first time, so I'm not certain, but..."
Fernandez watched Aria blush and quietly stroke the teacup's rim, then turned toward the door.
-Knock knock.
"Professor Page, you there?"
"Come in?"
"How about you come out, Professor?"
"Hah, wise choice."
It meant he had no desire to enter a mage's workshop. Fernandez chuckled and slowly rose from his chair. As Aria started to stand, he waved her down.
'I don't know how long it'll take, Aria. But at least, I hope it's worth it.'
Fernandez slowly opened the door. An elderly man in his sixties leaned on a cane at the threshold, looking at him.
Piercing eyes, sturdy build—despite his bent back, he stood a hand taller than Fernandez. And the familiar scar and expression.
'You've aged a lot too, Zephys Shiradast.'
A Demonica who'd survived to this age. A rare talent indeed. No attendants or guards spoke to his pride and confidence. Fernandez smiled, feeling like he was meeting an old friend.
"I heard you wanted to see me, Professor Page."
"Tea?"
"Not your tea in your house."
"Then to the church."
"...Didn't expect you'd agree?"
"I don't want to, but if we're not settling this standing outside, I bend."
Since they won't. Fernandez smiled as he spoke, and Zephys shrugged as if surprised.
*
The church's resident priest brought tea with a reluctant expression, then quickly excused himself. A wise decision. His temperament couldn't endure joining the village's most troublesome apothecary and a high-ranking Inquisitor dispatched from the Inquisition.
-Clunk.
The door closed with a dry sound. In the priest's office, Fernandez leisurely crossed his legs and gulped the thick, watery tea. Seeing him drink, Zephys followed suit and glared at him.
"Professor Page. Or should I call you Feizashi? Heretic. Why should I let you live?"
"Curiosity, I'd wager. You know the higher-ups in the Inquisition, you let Inquisitors go alive in the end, without corrupting them, injecting mana, or casting spells."
Fernandez set down his cup and slowly leaned toward Zephys. Zephys merely twitched an eyebrow, looking down at him unmoved.
"Why? Why on earth? Why did that heretic mage let the Inquisitors live? No traces of spells, no bewitchment—just genuine talk? Why? What does he want? Didn't you wonder?"
"Suppose we say yes. So what?"
-Scrape.
Zephys pulled a long cylindrical mechanical device from his robes and placed it on the table. Fernandez glanced at it and hardened his face.
"Dwarven Thunder Thrower? Thought the Inquisition didn't have any."
"Well, turns out they do."
"Damn Brother Martirio."
"...What are you, really?"
Fernandez grumbled, recalling the stubborn Enmagicka brother who'd insisted to the end they had no Dwarven Thunder Thrower. Zephys's face stiffened at the sight.
"Brother Martirio fell five years ago. And that he managed the armory in life? That's not info a heretic should know. What are you?"
"It's a long story. Hard to believe. You sure?"
"Better make me believe. If I don't, it's heretic nonsense, and what an Inquisitor does with that... is simple."
Zephys threateningly leveled the barrel at Fernandez and beckoned. Even at the rudeness, Fernan—Fernandez kept his smile.
"Let's assume we can find common ground, Brother Zephys."