Ciel Midford
White smoke billowed from the fallen Ciel Midford's body, scattering in the night breeze. His charred, peeling skin screamed in agony with every gust, yet Ciel didn't let even the faintest groan escape his lips.
“……”
He had heard Prince Inas declare defeat just moments ago, marking the end of the duel. And yet... he refused to lower his sword.
Far off, Ferzen approached with a weary face, utterly defenseless with his mana nearly depleted. How many more chances like this would he get to kill him?
Kkwaaak—! Veins bulged on his hand as he gripped tighter.
If he killed him now, in a duel already concluded... it wouldn't just be his own life at stake. The Robelium Kingdom would be thrown into chaos.
He'd repay the grace of a kingdom that had knighted a worthless wretch like him with disloyalty. But if an imperial black mage from the Ernes Empire claimed feedback from his corpse, the truth of his solo act would inevitably come to light.
“You did well.”
Prince Inas approached and patted Ciel's back in commendation. Then, turning subtly toward the Empress—Gremory, standing beside Princess Elizabeth—he clenched his fist tight.
'This should be enough...'
Undoubtedly, it would secure Elmark Empire's protection.
“I'm sorry.”
“What are you saying all of a sudden? You've nothing to apologize for! You served Robelium Kingdom honorably enough. Hold your head high...”
Was he doing this out of pity for such a pathetic defeat? Prince Inas tried to bolster Ciel's spirits with compassion, but...
Paat—!
Before he could finish, Ciel shot forward like a bolt. Prince Inas turned in stunned bewilderment at the sudden outburst.
* * * * *
“Ah...”
He lost.
Inas den Proissen Robelium's words echoed softly, signaling the duel's end. Euphemia's tension shattered in an instant, her body swaying.
She watched Ferzen approach slowly and released her clasped hands, stepping forward cautiously to greet him.
'Really...'
He'd kept his promise.
Honestly, she'd feared Ferzen might disregard such a vow and kill Ciel without a second thought... a dark premonition she couldn't shake. But Ferzen hadn't trampled her past.
'Ciel...'
She glanced back subtly at the man who had once been her steadfast pillar. Seeing him stand there, burned and wounded where his armor couldn't protect, her heart ached...
But she believed this was the right path. With his resolute spirit, he wouldn't crumble now. In time, though, he'd feel the towering wall of Ferzen and the Brutein name behind him, yielding to reality.
Too much had solidified, too much time had passed since their days in Ruerg, leaning on each other in simple harmony. For a mere kingdom knight to reset it all was far too harsh.
So Euphemia hoped today would free Ciel from regrets and lingering attachment to her... letting him live his own life.
She finally tore her gaze from Ciel, where it had lingered too long, and turned back to Ferzen.
Puuk—!
In that instant, unspeakable shock and horror flooded her golden eyes.
For Ciel, standing distant, had moved as if tracking her turning gaze—piercing Ferzen through with his sword in a fleeting moment.
A mere shift of her eyes. In that brief span, it happened. Euphemia lost her sense of reality, wondering if it was a hallucination...
But the metallic tang of Ferzen's blood filling her nostrils told her otherwise. It was no illusion.
* * * * *
Ciel had originally aimed for Ferzen's back—his heart. But Ferzen, who had deliberately preserved a sliver of mana, had commanded Isabel's corpse to interfere in the air, maximizing resistance and twisting the blade's path...
“Kuh, keuk—!”
Ciel's sword pierced Ferzen's side instead.
Even with heightened air resistance, the inertia from acceleration lingered. Ferzen was shoved back like a bull charging, sliding across the ground with Ciel embedded in him.
As that momentum faded, they tumbled wretchedly. Unlike the black mage Ferzen, Aura Knight Ciel planted his right foot, halting their roll. His left hand seized Ferzen's throat, yanking the sword free from the flank.
Chwaak!
Blood, dammed by the blade, gushed endlessly like a stream, soaking Ferzen's suit and shirt, pooling thick around him.
Ciel raised his sword straight for Ferzen's heart in one stroke, but...
Pang—!
A massive compression of air detonated point-blank, hurling him back some three meters.
“What the hell does Robelium Kingdom think it's doing—?!”
The leader of the imperial mage corps, Elder Teor el Binheim Roswell of House Roswell, stormed forward in fury. He conjured flames infused with solidity around the staggering Ciel, forming a prison.
Prince Inas was subdued by imperial knights, forced to his knees with a blade at his nape.
'Ciel Midford...'
Here, no protagonist's plot armor shielded him from death with sheer cliffs and raging rivers below.
In this world, escaped from the novel's frame into reality...
'You...'
Couldn't escape this trap pointing every path to doom.
“Stop the bleeding before the physician arrives! Pull anyone with the same blood type as Count Ruerg!”
“Kuluk...!”
Surrounded by those administering emergency aid, Ferzen turned his head laboriously toward Euphemia, standing alone.
'Euphemia...'
As promised, I didn't make you sad.
But the precious tie from your past that you cherished so... will plunge you into deep sorrow instead.
'Behold...'
Ciel Midford. He steps onto the scaffold of his own accord, offering his neck.
His life would end in tragedy, without even an epilogue.
The long, long stage reached its curtain call.
* * * * *
“Whelp, don't touch it. You'll turn to ash.”
With voice thick with anger, Teor warned Ciel.
“……”
Defying the advice, Ciel reached out and grasped the flaming bars of his prison.
Hwaruk!
His palm's skin melted instantly, the foul stench of burning flesh filling the air. The flames crawled up his arm, engulfing his body.
His armor liquefied, fusing grotesquely with the searing skin.
Immolation—the most agonizing death. Ciel writhed in primal human torment...
'Just like back then...'
If his whole body burned, might the pent-up mana melt free?
With that sole conviction, Ciel gripped the bars harder.
After this moment passed, who knew when he could kill him again. Or free Euphemia from her cage.
No—after this, such hypotheticals held no meaning.
There'd be no next time for him.
'Heavens...'
Like melting wax, Ciel's body distorted.
An Apollyon-grade elemental mage's mana-turned-flames were devastating. No makeshift flesh could withstand it.
'I've endured... so much misfortune...'
His fallen noble father, left with only a castle, wed a village woman, birthing him and his sibling.
They grew under father's violence, witnessing mother's smiling sacrifices and pain.
In that torment-filled life, his first taste of happiness came with father's death.
But soon mother's passing taught him fortune and misery intertwined.
Orphaned overnight, they roamed alleys into mercenary life. On a job, his sibling died saving him from peril.
Those precious, loved ones... he couldn't hold and protect.
Drifting in numb despair, taking endless quests like seeking his own grave, he reached Ruerg.
There, he met Euphemia.
A woman with similar pain, unyieldingly managing her fief.
At first, kinship. Post-job, he stayed in Ruerg.
Few young men remained, so he aided her often. In the process, old wounds in his heart itched with new growth.
But he ignored it. Knowing the ends of all he loved.
If emotions obeyed reason, love wouldn't feel magical.
Thus, Ciel nursed mature lovesickness, nurturing feelings for Euphemia carefully.
And that was the issue. The curse strangling his beloveds stole her before his eyes. Buried in Ruerg's snowy peaks, awaiting white death, he cursed the world.
But his cursed life rejected death. Awakening mana, he entered the capital.
Fortune rained as if compensating—knighted by the kingdom. Yet joy eluded him.
Lower his head slightly, and the corpses of his lost piled at his feet, screaming.
'If this cursed body can't know living happiness...'
At least let death take that form. Ciel raised his left arm fervently.
“……”
A shabby copper bracelet engraved Ciel Midford.
Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg's first shy gift, saying he'd suffered.
He bowed, pressing pure, devoted lips to it.
Pasak...
The simple touch crumbled it to dust...
Yet with wistful eyes tracing the remnants, Ciel gripped his sword.
The flames devouring him blazed brighter.
Everyone has a life's shining moment, they say.
Then let it be now.
Illuminate brilliantly the life of a man sacrificing for his beloved...
Ciel yearned, stepping forward.
Hwaruk...!
The Apollyon-grade prison of mana-flames shuddered.
Explosive mana leaking from Ciel distorted its form.
Raw and formless, its anti-magic was imperfect. Yet like smoke, the rippling mana pierced the blaze, clearing a path.
Yes—this was Ciel Midford's gift.
One Thought, One Path
The world's praise and tribute, bestowed upon vowing to walk one unyielding road with one unchanging heart.
Paat—!
Countless fireflies bloomed beautifully around Ciel, forming a green-haired woman's silhouette.
She embraced his mangled form from behind with tender, loving eyes.
The blessing of the Goddess of Protection among the Five Blessings Gods.
The world's priceless, formless treasure—amplifying one's innate power when guarding one dearer than life.
'May I...'
Become the key to your cage.
'Please...'
Let me spread your broken wings again.
After that, no worries.
Euphemia, as Ciel knew her, was resolute. She'd relearn to fly swiftly.
So, without fear...
Ciel swung his sword.