Memory (1)
Alpheas continued.
"One year ago, one of the students at the Magic Academy was murdered by a stranger."
"Murdered?"
"That was when I learned about the curse between Etella and Shagal. You know who Shagal is, right?"
One of the world's hundred most dangerous people.
He'd even fought Rian — a figure the Great Purge could not ignore.
"I heard his memories were distorted." Ra Enemi had implanted false memories into Shagal.
Everything Shagal believed he'd experienced was an illusion, and because of that he killed Rafael, Etella's teacher.
"Rafael forgave him. Etella tried to honor that forgiveness and turn Shagal to the side of good, but…"
Alpheas sighed.
"Shagal's mind had fallen into a pit too deep for her to manage. He harmed everyone around her. Students and teachers alike were in danger. In the end… one student was sacrificed."
"Was Shagal arrested?"
"No. I hate to say it, but he's strong. That's why Etella left the school. Wherever Etella goes, Shagal follows."
I could understand Etella's feelings.
"Where is your teacher now?" Alpheas shook his head.
"I don't know. They say Shagal's sense of smell has reached a supernatural level. If you could track her, there are only two places she might be: somewhere empty where she could face Shagal directly… If she were someone who could overpower him, Etella would already have done it and not let him run wild.
"Or somewhere to blend into a crowd and wait."
A place where one can hide their scent.
The Fesia Kingdom.
It borders Tormia but geographically belongs to the southern continent.
A developing nation riddled with corruption and extreme inequality—slums were everywhere.
Sekte 7.
If Radum in the Tormia Kingdom was where the poor hid and plotted, Sekte 7 was literally a den of beggars. Shacks that couldn't keep out the rain lined the place; roughly 450 beggars were kept there.
The kingdom provided rations, but the food was barely better than trash.
Still, they were taken in because they made excellent, pliable tools for politicians.
Secret biological experiments, assassination plots, unsolved crimes—Sekte 7 was the origin of countless offenses.
"I'm hungry…"
The seven-pyeong room swarming with people reeked of the filth they'd piled up.
Every corner smelled like a latrine, and in the foulest spot a woman sat.
Romi Etella.
Rations came once a day, but she rarely got a share.
She wore rags that had once been white; whenever she smeared herself with grime, the beggars would glance her way.
"There she goes again. What the hell is she doing?"
She'd come to Sekte 7 so often that her strange behavior had become a fixture.
There were many with broken minds here, so the others paid her little heed.
'I have to leave.'
Thirty days had passed since she entered Sekte 7.
She disguised herself with every foul stench, but Shagal's sense of smell remembered the incident.
'He knows every scent of mine.'
To erase even the smell of her innards, she scooped filth from the floor with her hands and shoved it into her mouth.
It was an act even a monk's mind would recoil from, but Etella's eyes only burned with anger.
'I can't forgive him.' Before the Magic Academy student was murdered by Shagal, she had tried to carry on Rafael's will.
But the price of acting in the name of good had been the deaths of countless acquaintances.
Monks of the Karsis Monastery, devotees, Magic Academy students.
'The methodology of evil.'
It felt like a sneer: do you think you could still forgive me even if I went this far?
'I'll kill him.'
Shagal's evil was eating away at Etella's goodness.
"I'm sorry, Master. I've lost my heart."
By the time her revenge on Shagal was done, Etella herself might no longer be called good…
'Don't worry, Shagal. I won't let you die alone.'
At that point it didn't matter anymore.
'I'll kill you and go with you.'
A flash of light ignited in Etella's eyes.
'To an eternal hell…'
Mark suggested, "Since we're all gathered like this, why don't we celebrate with dinner?"
Night had already fallen, and everyone at the reunion felt reluctant to part.
Shirone and Amy felt the same.
They moved to a dining hall, and once the alcohol loosened tongues, frank conversation flowed.
The topic, unsurprisingly, was the war with the demonkind. Grand Marshal Iruki of the Valkyrie explained the situation at the front.
"It's not good. We're going to lose."
They weren't afraid despite the bleak prognosis because they were already in the thick of the war.
"The key is the Tormia Kingdom. It's the last gateway to the central continent. If the demonkind break through here, no nation in the world can stop them."
Dante said, "Tormia won't fall easily."
Seriel asked, "Do you have a strategy?"
"I can't go into details—classified. Some may have guessed. In any case, it's almost certain the final battlefield will be Tormia."
Iruki added, "The Valkyrie are preparing in our own way. The scale of casualties will be beyond arithmetic prediction, but there's still a slight chance of victory."
"…How many will die?"
"If we use the kingdoms the demonkind have already occupied as a reference, on average eighty-seven percent of the population perished. So if they reach Tormia, most of the people here will die."
In the solemn hush, Dorothy said, "Then this could be our last reunion. Shall we at least toast to commemorate it?"
"You won't die."
All eyes turned to Shirone.
"I'll make sure you don't."
"Shirone…"
From the fierce way Shirone stared ahead, you could feel the burden he carried.
"When the war first began, people said it was impossible. Yet here we are. The Ivory Tower moved, the Sacred Tone sealed the spirit domain. If we all fight with everything we have…"
Shirone smiled.
"So let's toast to victory." The alumni of Alpheas Magic Academy raised their glasses and shouted.
"To victory!"
It was time to leave.
Shirone stepped outside for some air; the tavern's ruckus buzzed in his ears.
'It's coming.'
Was it a sixth-sense manifestation, or just a conviction born of feeling?
'Something enormous is coming.'
The acceleration toward an end felt clearer than before.
'What future awaits us?' He couldn't imagine it yet; the vague image sent shivers down his spine.
"Shirone."
When he turned slowly, Amy approached with a smile, her cheeks flushed.
"You're leaving?"
He had to go.
"Sorry. I need to get this to the Ivory Tower as soon as possible. Even though we met like this…"
Amy shook her head.
"Don't let it be just the two of us who are happy. I want a world where everyone can be happy. I'll fight hard, and I'll wait. You're the only one in my heart…"
She'd had a little to drink, but still had to gather courage—
"So what I want to say is…"
Amy beamed.
"I love you."
Shirone saw the full moon reflected clearly in her eyes.
"Ah…"
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Why are you crying?"
"Huh? Me? Why…"
Realizing belatedly, Shirone hurriedly wiped his face, but he couldn't stop.
'I must remember this moment.' He didn't know why, but the thought came.
'I must remember this woman.'
Amy's face, voice, scent—even the moon reflected in her eyes.
'I will never forget!'
Shirone gripped Amy's shoulders and burned her image onto his retinas.
"Amy, you must never forget me. Remember me at every moment."
"What do you mean?" Amy didn't understand, but seeing the terror on Shirone's face, she nodded.
"Okay, I'll remember. No matter what happens—even if it becomes a world without you—I will remember you."
Shirone kissed Amy, their hot breaths tying them into a single life.
A moment later—
A roar of teleportation. When people spilled out of the tavern they saw Amy standing alone.
Gaold's Air Press, pushed to the apostate realm, detonated; a mushroom cloud rose from the ground.
Gangnan watched the scene from far above with Julu, his eyes trembling in shock.
"This can't be…"
Gaold had begun to forget even Miro and had taken drastic measures.
This was the result.
"How could he get any stronger?"
"Because he's human," Julu said. "The human heart has no limits. Gaold… just chose an easier path."
When the conflagration cleared and a huge crater remained, Julu descended to the ground.
A wind pushed the smoke aside and Gaold appeared, wearing a meaningful smile.
"It's over."
The southern demon forces had been completely wiped out.
But to Gangnan, Gaold's smiling face was grotesque beyond sorrow.
"Are you really all right?"
"What do you mean?"
Clapping sounded from within the smoke; Gangnan and Julu turned in alarm.
"Wow, that's impressive. As expected of the strongest."
A familiar voice and tone made Gangnan go pale.
Miro approached, smiling.
"Long time no see. I heard our handsome man was working hard, so I came to give some encouragement. How have you been?" Meeting Gaold stoked his heart, but Miro had no intention of putting on a cringe-inducing display.
'I'll let the kiss slide.'
After drawing that line, Miro had been able to come south, but Gaold didn't move.
"What, are you so moved…?" Miro's eyes widened at a sudden surge of life force, and in that instant an Air Press fell.
KRAAAAASH!
A manifestation of the Thousand-Hand Kannon rose behind Miro in a flash.
It was instinct.
"Run!"
As Gangnan shouted, Gaold charged at Miro, unleashing a barrage of Air Guns.
"Ugh!"
The Kannon formation warped time to intercept the bullets, but it couldn't bring itself to attack Gaold.
"Die!"
Gaold grabbed Miro's throat and shoved her to the ground.
More shocking than the crushing grip that could break her neck was Gaold's expression.
"Die. I said die."
It was pure hatred.
"Gaold… why?"
"Love dulls over time. I admired those who held on to it through pain. But now there's a limit."
Even that memory was being erased.
"Instead of remembering you, Gaold chose to hate you. That way he can hold on a little longer."
"Guhhh…"
As Gaold squeezed Miro's throat, Julu watched impassively and spoke in a strange eastern tongue.
"How very human."