Chapter 50.3: Farewell and Good night

All the subjects have aligned, our grand design has come to fruition, and the final step is harvesting what I have sown. With the collapse of the false utopia and the eradication of the previous regime, the last task at hand is to collect the debts owed by those bound by the contract. Some may perceive the act of ending the life of their creator as cruel, but it is a necessary measure to dismantle monopolistic control.

If only we could have coexisted, Father. I would have employed my authority to accommodate your needs. Yet, here we stand, engaged in the grim pursuit of kin slaying and amassing casualties from the opposing side. The war shall only cease through peaceful negotiation or the annihilation of the adversary.

Special divisions have departed to the fortress, patiently biding their time to catch him off guard and dismantle the last remnants of the castle's outer defenses. It is a risky endeavor, yet I have willingly sacrificed some of my forces in this confrontation. Each life lost is still a painful blow.

The path ahead resembles purgatory, where my sanity hangs by a thread, threatened by the consuming flames of my own hatred. Unleashing my rage upon the entire castle would be a simple task, but my acceptance of this mission indicates a chained guilted on the lives of others. Since when have I become so dependent?

[ “I think it would be enough. You overexert yourself over something insignificant.”]

[“ Why?”]

The vision becomes vivid in this moment of uncertainty, a price paid for my provocative nature with countless lives. The remorse lingers, knowing I couldn't save myself or Matasyn, a burden that shall haunt me for eternity.

"Mikhail... no, Your Majesty, how is the progress of the plan?" Blood Claw, having just finished giving orders to Saudade's shadow order. Once dedicated to escorts and assassinations, they now turn their efforts to subduing a multitude of angels, knowing that many lives will be lost today.

"Please, dispense with the formalities, Eugen. We both know we never cared for them from the beginning." I let out a heavy sigh, reflecting on how time has flown since our first encounter. "They have commenced their attack from both sides. Where is Kryos?" Scanning the camp, Kryos is nowhere to be found. He better not be indulging in his mischievous antics with the scouting team ahead.

Knowing his personality, it seems highly unlikely. He has always been one to work "smarter" rather than "harder." I believe he can set aside his mischief for a day like this.

"He is in the tent with Furcas, engrossed in what they call 'magic basics.' Honestly, I think General Furcas enjoys teasing Kryos," Blood Claw remarks with a sigh. I have never seen him interact with the elders since I awakened.

Perhaps my absence during slumber has increased his tolerance for their old-fashioned ways, who knows? I am just glad that he no longer argues with Andromalius.

"It seems the three of us have grown comfortable enough to discard unnecessary formalities," I say teasingly. We share a laugh, trying to be serious at a time like this. Shouldn't the battlefield demand solemnity? But thinking back, I've never been serious during any war council. Old habits die hard.

"I suppose spending time wandering has helped alleviate the tension between Kryos and me. Besides, I've never seen you as an object of adoration like them," Blood Claw explains. I understand his point, but an object of adoration? I think that only applies to Andromalius and his descendants, perhaps stretching it to the advisor as well.

As for Ragnorr, I serve as both a researcher and an accomplished ruler. An experimental plaything for the librarian, the royal messenger, and Matasyn; an acting sovereign for Kryos; a source of wealth for the ministers of agriculture and commerce; and a gatherer of ingredients for Uriel and Jeremiel.

From a distance, Jeremiel approaches, adorned in a suit of gleaming plate armor. Every step reverberates like the tremors of an earthquake, leaving me wondering about the urgency that propels her forward. Perhaps she seeks further details about the plan, or maybe she requires my assistance in casting a protective spell... or it could be that she has vexed Furcas and once again found herself engulfed in flames.

"Hail, Blood Claw, it appears your battalion requires your command for the time being. Allow me to have a private discussion with him," Jeremiel states, clearly attempting to find an excuse for some solitary time with me, although her skill in deception has not improved. Out of respect, Blood Claw steps aside to check on Kryos.

"Speak your mind, Jeremiel. What is it that you require?" I inquire wearily, though her words stir a deep irritation within me.

"I am dissatisfied with your placement. Just because I cannot endure Azazel's incessant questioning does not mean I cannot be by Uriel's side," she murmurs, her tone reminiscent of a whimpering pup. If only she would ask in a more straightforward manner, I might consider her request seriously. For now, it seems like nothing more than an act of separation retaliation.

"Can you set aside your childish whims? We are amidst a war where both of our lives are at stake, and all you can think about is being with Uriel?" I scold her sharply.

"But I have a terrible premonition!" Jeremiel persists, her eyes now even tearier than before. Like polished onyx, her eyes glisten under the protection of her helmet.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I do not want to regret that this might be our final meeting. I do not want it to end like the last time," Jeremiel pours out her emotions, her words a tangled mess of indescribable feelings. I cannot fathom her irrational sense of dread, but I will attempt to sympathize with it. After all, I have traveled a long path to understand the world, and perhaps it will soften my "frozen" heart.

"You do not comprehend the depths of my despair when Lambert perished, for he was my father. I cannot even have one final meeting with him due to Camael's flames," Jeremiel reveals her conversation with Lambert, a story that I struggle to empathize with. Our paths diverged long before his final words were spoken, leaving us in separate battles.

Yet, I do share a similar remorse, for Lambert entrusted me with the task of safeguarding Matasyn, a duty I ultimately failed. His sacrifice was in vain, as was my own. That is the understanding I glean from Jeremiel's confession.

"Can you at least promise me that you will protect her essence at all costs?" Jeremiel implores.

"...I will exert my utmost ability to ensure everyone emerges unscathed, including you. So, wipe away your tears, Jeremiel," I respond, gently brushing away her tears before we part ways.

The dusted sky awaits the coming rainbow, until the ever-ending night to come. The sea of blood dripped from paradise, marks the end of an era. As the battlefield to comes to a silent still, one on the verge of defeat.

Sing the marching hymn, for the better tomorrow. Matter does not to the ideal nor the mentorship, let us bring the last contract to an end. So does the separation band of fakeness.

[ ‘Itinere mitis’ ]

The sky engulfs the darkness of the moon, the preparation is completed. Kryos should be able to keep it for a while with my blood. Extracting blood in 6 bottles was quite painful but I can live through it.

[‘Dispellus magnus’] [‘Collocatio maiora’] Dispel in a large area of the castle, it should only disperse the protective barrier in the inner sanctum, and the teleportation should work despite significant magical resistance.

Within the grandiose halls adorned with golden accents, the throne room awaits at the end. The undeniable aura still lingers upon these walls and statues, the statues that hold the world's renowned legacy. However, I don't recall Jophiel's statue missing the last time I was here.

As I push open the magnificent golden doors, my gaze falls upon the throne where Sariel sits. Engrossed in his logs and artifacts crafted from pure mana, he speaks without averting his eyes, "The outer shell has been breached. They proved insufficient against the ferocious creatures."

"The external environment appears rather unnatural. Is this your doing?" Sariel inquires, pointing at the blackened sky, and Sariel shakes his head. The expression on his face reflects disappointment rather than agitation or anger.

"Quite an incantation you have developed, one that affects those with angelic traits, as I have come to know from your logs," I respond, and he responds with applause.

"Such an impressive feat you have accomplished, forging a part of my soul and inflicting us with illogic and ignorance from within," Sariel steps down from his throne, retrieving his staff from a hidden pocket.

"Then how about we bring this to an end? I have grown weary of your existence, and I believe you feel the same about mine," I declare.

[‘Eyes of God’] His eyes glow with a golden radiance as he initiates his assault, each spell precisely aimed at my weak points.

[‘Celeritas mentis’] I respond with an acceleration of my own. With each move countering the other, we await a slight misstep that could be exploited to conclude the battle.

[‘Typhoon’] A gust of air takes the form of a raging tornado, wreaking havoc in the throne room, and shattering precious items that lack replicas. [‘Exsultet’] I counter with a fiery judgment pouring from the heavens above, transforming the room into a restricted field where no creature can survive.

"Quite the entrance, even while you've been comfortably seated on your delusional throne," I provoke Sariel while skillfully evading wind blades formed by the powerful gust.

[‘Horologium vitae mortalis’] The sound of ticking fills the air as the surroundings corrode more and more. The spell aims for rapid aging and soul corrosion, weakening both of us with each passing moment. The corrosion is maintained at its maximum output. [‘Vibratio inter spatia’] Blades infused with space-rippling energy strike relentlessly, targeting Sariel with a life-draining spell.

As the battle rages on, I stand firm, determined to bring this conflict to its conclusion.

"Still, it falls within my expectations, though my limits approach sooner than anticipated," Sariel musters, preparing for his final spell. I must not be careless and focus on my own last resort.

[‘glacies mausoleum’] The majestic ice takes shape, and my ultimate attempt to bring an end to this battle before either of us succumbs to bitterness. However, Sariel's final move is unlike any of the countless spells I have encountered before, leaving me perplexed.

[Last day of creation] Sariel weakens as his entire being begins to dematerialize. The process unfolds gradually, not instantaneous. Why would he choose this instead of one of the countless spells that could end his life swiftly?

"I have known since the moment you entered this room that this would be my grave," Sariel confesses. I retract my spell, for this should be his final moment. Call me naive, but I cannot help but honor a defeated opponent's surrender.

"Then why do you struggle? It is unlike you, Sariel," I inquire, searching for an explanation. Could it be the will of God or something of that nature?

"What do you truly know of me, child? Beyond possessing the strength to defy my will and knowledge of all that I hold dear?" Sariel asks, his voice now tinged with emotions previously unseen in his interactions with me and Gabriel.

Recalling my time in purgatory and the three questions that shaped my understanding, I contemplate the complexities of Sariel's motives and the depths of his being.

[…your creator made the first exchange to escape the sealing. His sacrifice was his sister Jophiel, whom you called Ma.”]

"You have entered into a contract with God, trading away the existence of Ma and your own hope," I respond, pointing out his evasion from the sealing.

A moment of silence passes before Sariel speaks again, his voice tinged with confusion: "And so have you, I knew it from the moment that shard of my soul possessed your void consciousness. Your argument is irrelevant to my question of whether you truly know me or not."

"Then, I do not, apart from your fixation on Lord Michael," I reply cautiously as his shards flutter in the wind like glowing fireflies. This will be the last time I lay eyes upon him, yet these unresolved emotions persist. This moment shall forever be etched in my memory as one of coldness and calculation.

With a disappointed sigh, he sheds a solitary tear. "You possess intelligence but lack wisdom. You are more akin to my likeness than his."

"Then, in a thousand years, another will rise, built on lies and deceit. I have failed to establish order as he desired. However, go on and continue your rule, Mikhail. You are my only successful experiment," he declares. With those words, Sariel vanishes completely.

Farewell, Father. May you find solace in your delusion in purgatory, at least for a while.

The end…?