I Don't Want to Die After All (2)
"After all, I don't want to die."
The opponent let out a snicker as if to say as if things would go your way, but Lawrence had no words left to retort. The opponent had every right to mock him. Overwhelming force. An unbreakable, solid wall.
Yes. Perhaps it was fear of such things that had driven him to become a knight of death. Because he feared losing. Because defeat terrified him. Because he wanted to become a powerful, arrogant being like that. He wanted to be the object of fear rather than a pathetic wretch who cowered and bowed.
Nathan’s foot rose up as if to flaunt its superiority. Lawrence lifted his arm with every ounce of strength he possessed. It was a technique he had never needed to reveal in most matches, where his abyss-enhanced raw power had been enough to overwhelm. He was trying to draw the abyss from within his body, reshape it, and forge a shield.
But it refused to obey. Even the power of the abyss seemed to have taken fright and would not move as commanded. Nathan’s kick therefore smashed through his frame without the slightest resistance.
The instant his shoulder was wrenched out for the seventh time, Lawrence used that jolt of pain as fuel to dredge up another faint memory.
Bullshit.
Grinding his teeth, he forced his retreating foot forward instead.
I don’t know what grand tragedy you carry. But I never sold my soul to the abyss for such a trivial reason.
What was the root of this rising terror? Why had he trembled and teared up in front of Nathan Maia, in front of those damned Eleim?
Was he simply a coward who feared the strong?
The knight charged in to find out. He had to find out. For that truth, he was willing to pay any price—even the agony of his limbs being ground to nothing and his bones shattering.
From the moment that hazy memory brushed past, a rage far greater than the vague fear had surged up inside him. It was a profound, deep-rooted self-loathing.
“Lawrence, you okay? Your recovery looks like it’s slowing down.”
It was true. Just as he had failed to form the shield, the regenerative power that was also an ability of the abyss was growing dull.
The greatsword had already slipped from his exhausted grip long ago.
Lawrence drew the dagger from his thigh—the same way he had when the chimera devoured him.
But unlike the beast’s stomach lining, Nathan could topple him. Fingers stretched out to seize were snapped, the limping foot was kicked away with contemptuous ease, and he collapsed.
The fallen Lawrence’s face was pulverized by hammer-like punches. Clean, precise, and utterly merciless strikes. By now the impacts were beyond counting.
Nathan Maia. That fucking bastard. Nathan Maia. That fucking bastard. Nathan Maia. That fucking bastard…
Nathan Maia stepped back again, waiting for him to rise.
Instead of thanks, Lawrence spat out a thick clump of blood and teeth. His broken nose no longer seemed willing to return to its proper place.
“How’s it feel?”
How does it feel, you son of a bitch?
As Lawrence staggered upright, he ground his shattered teeth.
I’ve been beaten so many times I’m on the verge of memorizing the fanatical phrases carved into your fists.
It was true. The long sentences covering the backs of both hands seemed burned into his retinas.
Boastful drivel. The sort of thing that would make the Federation’s warmongers piss themselves with glee.
Yet in this moment he could only agree completely. No matter what power of the abyss he borrowed, he could not imagine reaching that distant realm.
The Federation knight Nathan Maia stood at an unreachable height.
Who had said it? What you should fear is not the weapon, but the bastard holding it.
So what use would it be for the cavalry to carry a useless burden like you? They might as well fight with brooms. The Orleans cavalry is strong enough without you.
Whoever had spoken those words, it had been his father.
Lawrence clenched his teeth. It only added to the list of chores.
Can’t you just quietly pack the luggage?
“How could I do such a thing? A knight cannot join the evacuation like some serf—”
As Lawrence mumbled in a half-conscious daze, Nathan asked in a low, probing voice.
“Is your memory coming back?”
“...Coming back?”
“When we first met. What you’re going through right now is exactly what would have happened if the prisoner we captured had been sent to the Federation’s purification center. Stripping away the abyss clouding your mind with the faith of the Humanity Sect and a healthy dose of violence.”
Lawrence was unsettled by the reluctance threaded through Nathan’s tone.
“So… if I hadn’t let you go eight years ago.”
“Purification center? A healthy dose of violence? What the hell is that? And what do you mean you let me go? You’re saying I didn’t escape on my own two feet?”
“Of course the events of that day would have been erased by the abyss. It happened the moment you remembered who you were.”
A certain conviction flashed through his reeling mind, and Lawrence’s rage doubled.
“I don’t fully understand what you’re saying, but was your only goal just to beat the shit out of me? You hit me claiming you’d help me regain my memories? Thanks a lot, you crazy Federation bastard. I’m even remembering my grandparents’ names now!”
Nathan blinked, then slyly tested the waters.
“How much have you remembered?”
“Enough. Even the things I buried because I never wanted to recall them.”
Tears streaming down his face, Lawrence said, “Yes. I remembered. Thanks to you, sir.”
“Sir? Sir, is it. Not the tone one expects from an abyss collaborator who threw away his human dignity. Tell me, knight of Orleans. Prove you’ve regained your identity. What is your family name, Lawrence?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter. I’m not the protagonist of this story.”
Nathan tilted his head at the baffling answer.
“Not the protagonist?”
“I only ever made the wrong choices at life’s crossroads. The theme of my existence has nothing to do with luck or pride. I’m nothing more than an extra who passes through someone else’s life. What director would costume the protagonist of the final act in rags like these?”
The death knight, having shown the depths of his self-mockery, groaned as he peeled off his breastplate. He revealed the cursed object wrapped around his chest—veins and sacs wriggling in the shape of a vest.
A collective sound of disgust rose from the stands.
“This is a kind of bomb that runs on the abyss. Pull the string and it uses the abyss flowing through my blood as catalyst. It’ll blow this entire area apart. It won’t reach the spectator seats, though.”
“It won’t reach the seats? You just had to add that unnecessary detail and disappoint everyone, didn’t you?”
Nathan chuckled, completely relaxed.
“Why show me this, Lawrence? So that I’ll never forget you for the rest of my life? The final spark of an extra’s existence? Your thinking is too dark. Why not shift your perspective toward the light? At the very least, you’re the protagonist of your life.”
“I’m telling you I haven’t used it yet and have no intention of using it in the future,” Lawrence said in a gloomy voice. “Look at this. This is the gutter I’ve fallen into. The Eleim sent me intending to blow you up with me. Win or lose, I was never free. Even if I win and return, the moment a difficult opponent appears they’ll just strap this on me again and send me out.”
“I see.”
“There’s a simple solution, Nathan Maia. Kill me. As you know, cutting my throat isn’t enough. Burn me. A Lion Wing Knight of the Federation must have brought something capable of killing a death knight. Hell, even a matchstick would do.”
There were only two ways to eliminate a death knight: burn them, or dismember the limbs and bury the pieces in separate locations.
Nathan Maia, an expert in the field, shook his head.
“Why should I?”
“I figured you might say that, but you actually did. You son of a bitch who’d hang me from that tree. What are you going to do if I pull this string and blow us both—”
“Pull it.”
“...What?”
The threat of yanking the ignition cord lasted only a moment before Lawrence’s strength deserted him.
“I saw similar devices in the Arena of Punishment. The solution was always simple. Go on, pull it. Let’s see if it explodes like you think. I’ll bet my balls it won’t even activate.”
“...The consul himself put this on me. Someone of his rank wouldn’t have done the job sloppily—”
As Nathan shook his head and stepped in to grab him, the death knight panicked and covered his face with both hands like a beaten servant. His torso was left completely exposed. Nathan snatched the fallen ignition cord and yanked it hard.
Lawrence saw his life flash before his eyes. By the time the vision reached its end, he was staring down at the bomb wrapped around his chest.
Nothing happened.
“The power of the abyss has almost completely left your body. It probably stopped functioning after the very first punch.”
“...What?”
“There are a few beings the abyss unconditionally avoids on the battlefield. One of those rare few is a Miracle holder. That’s me. The living anti-abyss weapon of the Humanity Sect.”
Nathan raised his bloodied hands and pointed at himself with his thumb in open boast.
Lawrence blinked stupidly.
“In other words, you’ve almost returned to being human.”
“You already knew about the bomb? Was this your plan from the beginning?”
“I told you. I simply did what should have been done at the Federation purification center—stripping the abyss from you with the power of the Humanity’s teachings and a little violence.”
I thought it was bullshit.
Aspen, watching through the telescope, clenched his fist tightly. The special lens Benny had crafted showed everything clearly. Each time a fist landed on the death knight, the afterimage of abyssal mana leaving the body and scattering helplessly was unmistakable.
“You’ve overcome the hurdle you were worried about, Master. The tide of victory seems certain.”
Benny, wearing the mask of Somnus, beckoned Aspen closer with a gesture. She whispered into the ear of the man who leaned in.
“My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would die.”
Aspen held back his laughter. Conscious of the high-ranking Eleim around them, he lifted his head again and returned to his role as Somnus’s bodyguard.
The Rune of Kelsa alone could not have performed such purification. The inscriptions of the Humanity Sect’s teachings on the gauntlets must have helped, but they could not have produced such a dramatic effect by themselves.
That left only one certainty: Nathan, the Miracle holder, could wield the power of the Humanity Sect. He was essentially a walking monastic fortress.
Because revealing his full strength carried risks, Aspen condensed the information as much as possible.
“As I have said repeatedly, there is no need for concern.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
Benny muttered gloomily.
She was not the only one. The fight was dragging on in an unwanted direction. The two warriors had even begun talking to each other at close range.
The Eleim, eyes bloodshot, hurled curses one after another, each one soaked in the damp misery of their hearts.
The consul, too, bit his lip in grief. Every voice added to his political burden.
For some reason Cardon’s self-destruction had failed.
The consul’s anxious gaze searched for Orgithes, but the man he could have shifted blame onto was nowhere to be found.
That undisciplined wretch. Sitting on the family legacy and gnawing away at it like a rat!
What the consul had failed to anticipate was not only Nathan’s skill. Orgithes had not simply been absent—he was fleeing. From the moment he confirmed the defeat conditions his wife had approved, he had run for the border with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Had he known the circumstances, even the consul would have understood.
“That insane wife of mine. That crazy bitch who sits on my fortune and thinks only of driving me out—!”
“So… I’ve become human again?”
“Roughly. Temporarily. Not completely. There’s no telling when you might turn back into a death knight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Probably? I don’t know. I’m neither a healer nor a diagnostician.”
Lawrence stared at Nathan for a long moment, then sank to the floor.
Only now did he understand the root of that deep-seated fear.
What he had truly feared was the resurrection of his memories themselves.
The incomplete shackles of the abyss could not suppress those faint recollections and kept dragging them to the surface.
Perhaps it was the deep regrets left from his previous life. Or perhaps the curse had begun the moment he was defeated by Lion Wing Knights who carried the faith of the Humanity Sect.
Whatever the cause, Lawrence had remembered who he was. He had remembered the identity he so despised, and why he had never wanted to recall it.
“When I return, it will be one of two things—death or experimentation. The moment I realized I could not win, I had already resigned myself to dying.”
Groaning, Lawrence lifted his rag-like body and knelt. Broken pieces of armor clattered to the ground.
“It feels refreshing to have thrown that bomb off. Thank you, man of the Federation.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And for letting me die as a person.”
“What nonsense.”
When Nathan yawned, Lawrence made the request again, voice earnest.
“Cut my throat. I can feel it. Right now, severing my neck alone should be enough to kill me.”
“Wow. I just imagined it. That’s gross.”
“Damn it, I’m not joking. Kill me while I’m still somewhat closer to human. I understand now. Pain and fear are merely sensations. What’s truly terrifying is remaining a loser until the very end.”
Nathan frowned as he looked down at Lawrence. The calm eyes of a man who had given up on everything. The very fact that he had given up seemed to bring him an odd sense of relief.
“I don’t want to remain a shameful son to my father until the end. Cut my neck together with my atonement. Before I forget everything again. Before I return to being the traitor of Orleans.”
“You remembered your father? For a prince from a backwater kingdom, he was actually a decent man. Shame.”
Lawrence’s spirit wavered. At the suspicious nuance he asked hesitantly.
“What do you mean, shame?”
Nathan paused as if he had slipped up, then carefully watched Lawrence’s reaction as he continued.
“We had no choice. To quickly suppress the chaos in Orleans and absorb the territory, the Federation had to seize military control. So we treated him with respect.”
“...What are you saying? What did you do?”
“The reason I and a few other knights stayed in the tent instead of fighting on the battlefield wasn’t because we were young or weak. We had a different mission.”
Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
“Lies.”
“Such rumors exist in every monarchy. That Federation people have neither blood nor tears. That they are warmongers built entirely for war. It isn’t entirely a lie invented because entering the Federation requires abandoning royal authority. Some of it is true.”
“Lies. Where is the evidence—”
“The seal of the Orleans royal family is hidden inside the copper scepter. When I approached with my sword drawn, he tried to throw it into the lake outside the secret office.”
Nathan raised his helmet and showed a distinctly artificial smile. The moment he realized what he was doing, he quickly corrected his expression.
But Lawrence was in no state to notice such a tiny detail.
“Your Majesty…”
Bloody tears flowed from his bruised eye sockets.
“No. Oh, Your Majesty…”
Lawrence collapsed once more. As the knight trembled, clutching the ground, the oblivious Eleim spectators poured explosive mockery onto his back.
It was meaningless jeering. None of it reached Lawrence’s ears.
“The cavalry… I must inform the cavalry—”
“We buried them all. It would be troublesome if they learned the king had been assassinated and turned rebel. If you ever visit the Borpha Wilderness, dig beneath the sandy beach. Of course, you’d have to fall and shatter to reach the surface.”
“Shut up! Stop speaking such nonsense!”
“You thought you had already lost everything? How does it feel to realize that was nothing but stupid arrogance, Lawrence? How does it feel to finally learn what it truly means to lose everything?”
“Even after doing something like that… after doing that, you beat me and mocked me?”
“It’s entertaining. You’ve come this far—what can you possibly do now? You have no power of the abyss left. You’ve lost your trump card, the bomb. What exactly are you going to do?”
Psychological instability made the mind easier to manipulate. Nathan decided to shake him further. He hurled a cocktail of curses.
Lawrence was stunned by the Federation man’s arrogance—exactly as Nathan had intended.
“The moment I saw your face… I should have pulled the bomb’s string.”
“Too bad. If you had, you might have at least seen me jumping and running away. Unfortunately, people cannot turn back time.”
“I curse you. I curse you.”
“You cannot kill someone with a curse. If that were possible, everyone would have become a mage. Instead of sniveling on the ground like a dog whose snout was kicked in.”
“Ugh… ugh… aah…”
As Lawrence ground his forehead into the sand as if trying to bury his head, Nathan erased the mocking expression from his face.
He watched closely to see if the expected reaction would appear.
The moment he confirmed it, Nathan sighed and took several steps back.
“The unfunny, forced appetizer is over. Now it’s time to roast.”
The faded hue of the abyss grew dark once more. Black vapor rose from his entire body and fell heavily to the floor—heavy blackness like materialized cold itself.
Knight Lawrence rose to his feet again. For the last time.
A flame-like crimson light burned in his eyes.