Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: Butterfly's Dream (6)
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*
Time passes. For some, it's unbearably slow, but for others, it's overwhelmingly dense. Time is a limited resource for everyone, but it's not a fair one.
“Don't you think so?”
“I curse you.”
“Go ahead.”
-Kwachijijik!
It was an underground cavern littered with countless corpses. The kind of space where the thick stench of blood drove the nose mad. Every wall was densely inscribed with Asias forbidden spell language, and blood flowed along cracks in the floor, tracing complex patterns.
Not a single corpse among them retained a normal appearance. They were tangled, twisted, mixed, and clumped together in every way imaginable.
Dale Pertus's experimental workshop. One of the secret bases of the fallen Bronze Scales. Fernandez had personally raided this vile bio-experiment lab.
The enemy would have thought it a fierce battle. No, in a fight with a predetermined outcome, the process could never truly be fierce, no matter what. Fernandez moved briskly yet acted as leisurely as if out for a stroll.
“My old friend. Haha, old friend. Curse me. Hate me.”
“Your betrayal will be whispered by every demon in hell. Feizashi Wildcast...”
“Shut up.”
-Kwaduduk!
Fernandez grabbed Dale's head and slammed it down roughly. Dale gasped, his face smeared into the muck of blood and filth. Hearing his groans, Fernandez placed his foot on the man's head.
“Go on and yap. Every time you say my name, they'll learn something.”
“Kuhuk.”
Feizashi. Betrayer, in the ancient Melacum dialect. On the day he first chose that name, he had sworn to betray humanity. It was a youthful vow. Fernandez twisted his lips and pressed down harder with his foot.
-Bugureuk.
“Hate me. Get out of here to hell. Go to your master and tell him clearly. Curse me. Hate me.”
So that my sins grow ever greater and vaster. So that the depths of my sins deepen and finally overflow.
Until they can swallow you all whole.
Feizashi. Betrayer in the ancient Melacum dialect... Yes. Betrayal is only truly effective when aimed at those most off-guard. The moment he first resolved to betray humanity, they had never let their guard down around him.
But now, in this moment. Over these few years, as he slaughtered demons, rooted out heretics, and burned apostates. They would have felt it to their bones. The most effective betrayal Fernandez could offer!
-Keurureuk!
Dale's breathing grew ragged amid the bloody froth, then finally stopped. Fernandez kicked the cooling head lightly and snapped his fingers.
-Ttak.
“Burn it.”
At his words, those lined up behind him began hurling Molotov cocktails in unison. Those who had dabbled in black magic, or those who had lost loved ones to such people, gathered at his back. Murderers who had stained their hands with sin while hating each other.
The Legion of Betrayers. The Cathedral of Sins. Religiosa Maledica. It had been three years since its founding.
*
Three years since the founding of the Cathedral of Sins. Humanity had achieved astonishing stability at a rapid pace. The evil that had eluded identification finally revealed itself, and demons lurking in the shadows burned away in flames.
Even the apostates and black mages who had survived the Inquisition's long pursuit and fierce battles could not escape Fernandez's hands.
In the abbot's office of the Inquisition monastery, markers steadily appeared on the massive wall map. Missing Inquisitors, outbreaks of heresy incidents. And notations for regions completely purified—more intensely than at any moment in any era!
“It might be the day we canonize you as a saint, my friend.”
“Cut the nonsense, brother.”
Fernandez chuckled and snatched Marco's tea to drink. Marco guffawed and slapped the desk.
“Was it this easy? This straightforward?”
“Of course not.”
Though he still couldn't quite believe this was reality, Fernandez smiled contentedly at the map. Before that day he entered this twilight.
Compared to the grueling year he had forged as the 'saint' Fernandez, with no power or forces at his command, this level of difficulty was naturally within expectations.
If that one year as the powerless 'saint' Fernandez had been like that... Then three years as the 'betrayer' Fernandez, wrapped in the secrets of magic and wielding the Inquisition's elite with one hand, had to be this way.
“Right. Now, let's talk about the Northern Great Invasion and the Southern Counteroffensive.”
Marco broached the topic cautiously while looking at Fernandez. For Fernandez, these were issues he wanted to avoid. Events he could barely prepare for in advance, but not fundamentally prevent.
The Northern invasion was imminent. Once that ended? Karadskarl's counteroffensive phase would arrive right after.
Assassinating Karadskarl was nearly impossible. Before he built his forces, he was just an obscure nobody impossible to track. After he amassed power, killing him was suicide.
The Northerners' invasion, however, allowed for minimal preparation. After all, it had been repelled by the Eastern Kingdom Alliance's might. Marco thought this, recalling Fernandez's 'prophecy.'
“King Vicente did push back the Franzrit bloodline, but he hasn't fully reclaimed the northern seas yet. According to your 'prophecy,' isn't it about time things get dangerous?”
“It's fine. It would have been truly dangerous if Franzrit were alive, but we can block it with some acceptable losses.”
“What kind of losses...?”
“All kingdoms bordering the northern coastline burning, and half the Levineiter Empire engulfed in flames.”
Fernandez smirked. Losses on that scale were tolerable. But Marco's expression hardened.
“You're joking, right?”
“What does it matter? If civilization weakens, demon worshippers rampage—that's the natural order... But I've got this, don't I? It'll be easier if they go wild.”
“You... Don't you see the people dying in between?”
“I can't stop it, brother.”
Fernandez's eyes gleamed darkly. He set down his teacup, crossed his fingers, and leaned back in his chair.
“If I'd moved ten years earlier, maybe. I could have stopped the Black Erik. With twenty more years, I might have solidified the Eastern Kingdom Alliance's foundations.”
In truth, he had tried. In his 'saint' Fernandez days, his first priorities had been resolving the Fairn royal heresy incident, rooting out corruption in the Dane Kingdom, and expelling the Franzrit bloodline.
All those preparations were part of a grand plan against the Northern great invasion. But what use were they now? Fernandez was no longer the seventeen-year-old 'saint' youth. He was a black mage past forty, and it was too late for preparations now.
So he had to do what he could now. He had too much work to halt and lament the past. His time was always a limited resource.
“What we're preparing for now is just a desperate bid to turn the worst into the lesser evil. There won't be much visible difference between them. So we should pull back from the North now.”
“We can't abandon the faithful to die at unbelievers' hands.”
“We're not the Doctrine Guardians or the Crusader Knights. We're Inquisitors. Our job isn't to be shields protecting the faithful.”
Fernandez tapped various spots on the map with his fingertips.
“Here, the [Blood Seekers]' base. This region, the [Steel Legion]'s seal. And here... At this time, the [Crimson Group's] activity zone. That's our work, brother.”
He spoke to Marco, who stared gloomily at the map.
“Not protecting the faithful from enemies, but directly cutting out the sinners devouring and burning civilization from within.”
He didn't act for humanity's salvation. He sought only salvation for himself and his family. Fernandez gazed at the map with fatigue-worn eyes.
It's almost over. No matter how this twilight ends. Even if this moment isn't reality. His goal raced toward its peak.
Even if this was self-deception. Even if all his efforts were mere hallucination. So that it could become his offering to Aria.
And at the very least, all his actions now would serve as an experiment gauging his best possible efforts.
'Mumto.'
After a long time, he called the great demon's name. To the being that still made no intervention in his reality.
'I hope this isn't a dream. You should too. If it's just an illusion, you'll die by my hand.'
And your demon allies will die the same way. As payment for giving me this era's information...
*
Aria groaned softly, lifting her thin-framed glasses slightly. Her desk was cluttered with countless experiment tools, reagents, and her experiment log.
She always got stuck here. Aria read the textbook Fernandez had left, slowly moving her hands. Her long, slender fingers delicately traced the air, and mana began tuning at her fingertips.
-Pajijik.
Soon, the incantations tangled, filling the air with hazy smoke. Failure. The spell's knot hadn't formed properly. Aria grumbled and added the failure note to her log.
“The thumb and index angle needs to be 15 degrees narrower. And the wrist tilted more to the right.”
“Ah... Teacher?!”
“Watch.”
-Seureuk.
A bony hand reached from behind her, wrapping around her right hand. It was rough and calloused. Before Aria could react, it repositioned her mudra.
“Remember this angle. And like so...”
-Sareureuk.
Mana flowed from her wrist, connecting the spell, and rose from her fingertips. Soon, green transparent liquid filled the beaker before her eyes.
“Got it now?”
“You are eating, right?”
“You weren't listening.”
“Good lord, look how skinny you are.”
Aria grabbed the retreating hand and turned. Fernandez looked down at her with an awkward expression. She slowly reached up, stroking his gaunt jaw and cheek.
“Doesn't the church feed you? That's awful.”
“I eat plenty. No need to worry about me—”
“You love meat so much, does the church even serve meat dishes?”
“At my age, do I fuss over side dishes? Forget my business, let's talk about—”
“When did you last wash these clothes? Look at the dust! Doesn't the church do laundry? This won't do. I need to go give them a piece of my mind.”
“I wash my own clothes. Now, Aria. The reason I came—”
“Oh, right. Look at me. Sit here quickly, Teacher. Sit down first, um... Milk? How about some milk?”
“...Milk sounds good.”
Fernandez was dragged around by Aria's hands before finally sitting in a chair. She dashed to the kitchen and returned with refreshments.
“This is bacon I bought yesterday. With bread... Oh, right. Shall I heat some soup?”
“I didn't come to eat, Aria. So let me speak—”
“How did you get in? I set tons of alarm spells!”
“The spells I taught you—think I can't disarm them?”
“Ahaha.”
Aria sat across from him with a bright smile. She stared intently at the milk and bread. Fernandez awkwardly nibbled the bread, chewing, then saw her face light up.
“Yes, Teacher. What is it?”
“The mood's not right.”
Fernandez set down the bread with a sigh. He reached behind his back and pulled out the flowers he had prepared.
“Not conjured by magic—I bought them myself on the way. For you, Aria.”
“Oh, thank you.”
It was a bouquet of freesias woven together. Aria beamed happily, hugging the flowers. He gazed at her face and carefully spoke.
“This year. Aria.”
“Yes?”
“My role wraps up around then. After that, even without me, the church can handle incidents on their own—the situation will have progressed that far.”
“...Where are you going this time?”
“Yeah.”
Fernandez looked at Aria's anxious eyes. He slowly reached out, stroking her hair.
“By your side.”
He withdrew his hand from her locks. In his palm now sat a plain ring, free of any adornments. With slightly trembling hands, he took hers.
“Ah...”
“After that, I'll never leave your side. Aria. Can you wait for me?”
“Did you make this with magic too?”
“...Uh... No?”
“That's weird, Teacher.”
Aria smiled at him through tear-filled eyes.
“This is a magical moment.”