Chapter 173: Play (3)

Chapter 173: Play (3)

Elfante’s structure was complex, intricately woven as spider’s web, mostly due to the various types of buildings that had aged over time.

It was because of this that Yuria, who possessed such an extremely noticeable trait managed to find a building to live quietly in.

This fact also meant that it wasn’t hard to find a deserted place where one could carry out something significant without being caught by anyone.

“...Tying a knot is a bit hard...”

Dowd Campbell muttered with an unfocused gaze, as if he was in a complete daze.

The sight of him trying to tie a noose with a sturdy rope he had found somewhere was beyond miserable or pitiful. Actually, it wouldn’t be wrong if someone were to think that he had gone mad.

[...]

[...]

In a place not so far away, a ‘will’ was left neatly besides Soul Linker. And in it, two souls were in silent agreement.

[...Will it be fine even if we do not stop him?]

Valkasus, who had awakened at some point, said this to Caliban, but the latter only let out a deep sigh without giving a clear answer.

[I mean, even if we try to stop him, he won’t listen to us. What else can we do?]

[...But that doesn’t mean we can just leave him to die like this, right?!]

Valkasus exclaimed in horror at Caliban’s calm response.

What in the world? That man was on the verge of suicide. How could he remain so calm?

At this very moment, Dowd was almost ready to hang himself. His gloomy gaze checked the noose to see if it was tight enough.

[I mean, there is no reason not to be calm, right?]

Yet, Caliban’s voice returned unflustered despite Valkasus’s urgency and panic.

[The things clinging to that bastard are ‘Devils’, Valkasus.]

He continued with a bitter smile.

[Even if he wants to die, there is bound to be at least one punk that won’t let him do as he wishes.]

Valkasus didn’t even need to ask what that meant.

-!

After all, just as Dowd was about to hang himself with a whistle, the part of the roof where the noose was fixed exploded and flew away.

Thanks to that, Dowd fell to the ground as there was nothing left to support his weight.

As he tumbled to the ground with a Crash, someone landed gently from the air.

“...Are you serious...?”

Faenol, who was levitating in the air using her mana, let out a deep sigh as she retracted the flames wrapping around your body.

“I know I was busy with the Second Ordeal recently, so we haven’t seen each other. But what in the world do you think you’re doing? Is this seriously the first thing I need to see after meeting you for the first time in a while?”

“...”

Dowd stared blankly at Faenol, whose body was illuminated by the moonlight.

Her appearance, her dress fluttering in the night sky, was almost dreamlike.

But the biggest factor that gave such a sensation to him was actually something else.

He dragged his dazed gaze upwards, to something that was rising above her head.

‘...Horns?’

Though his memories were gone, his common sense and knowledge still remained. That was why, across the continent there would be no human who’d have such a thing growing out of their head.

This indiscernible sight made various questions rise in his head, but...

For the two souls inside the Soul Linker, it was different.

No one needed to explain to them anything, as they both knew that horns were a definitive symbol of a ‘Devil’.

The thing she used to blow up the roof of the building was related to that power.

Karmic Fire, a Devil’s Authority.

The firepower of it wasn’t something really worth mentioning. Because no matter how robust the buildings of Elfante were, a Devil’s Authority had the power to damage even the barriers of Seraphims.

Rather, the absurd part of this was...

[...Did she just precisely ‘scoop out’ the top part of the building with a Devil’s Authority?]

Valkasus let out such words with a groan.

No Vessel in the world could ‘bring out’ and use a Devil’s Authority however they liked in such a way.

Only when a Vessel started to go berserk after getting encroached by a Fragment would such a power manifested.

Her being able to use it so precisely implied a bunch of things.

[...]

Caliban silently watched this scene.

Obviously seeing the power of a Devil he had once subjugated with his own hands wasn’t a pleasant experience for him.

But, more than feeling such a displeasure, he could feel a terrifying chill ran down his spine.

‘...Didn’t she say before that as she regains her emotions, her control over the Devil’s power becomes stronger?’

Certainly...

The precision of her usage of the Red Devil’s Authority was incomparable even to back during the Crimson Night Incident.

Back then, she only spread her flames indiscriminately, but now she used it with a clear purpose and she could use it in an extremely calculated manner.

Then, maybe...

Just maybe...

Having fought this person once before, he had no choice but to come to an uncomfortable hypothesis.

If that punk, for some reason...

Became an ‘enemy’...

And if she decided to burn the world with the firepower of three Devil’s Fragments combined, as well as such precise control over that power...

[...]

The disaster that she could cause would be incomparable to the Crimson Night Incident, when she managed to turn several cities to ashes in less than half a day.

As he was thinking about this, Faenol let out a sigh while holding both sides of her waists with her hands, staring at him with squinted eyes.

Each and every of her gestures exuded an exasperated atmosphere.

“Some people can’t die even if they wish to, you know? What are you doing here? Are you trying to rub that fact in my face? Are you trying to brag?”

“...Excuse me?”

Dowd let out a bewildered voice.

After all, this person was a complete stranger to him, someone he hadn’t seen even when he had collapsed and was in the infirmary.

So why in the world was she acting as if he knew him?

As he shot an upward glance filled with these thoughts, Faenol landed gently on the ground.

Then she promptly approached and grabbed Dowd, who was sprawled on the floor, by the scruff, hoisting him up.

The strength from her slender body was unimaginable, but then again, questioning such things about a Devil’s Vessel was ridiculous in itself.

“...Uh, who are you...?”

And then...

Faenol immediately pressed her lips against Dowd.

“...? ...?! ----?!”

Startled by this, Dowd struggled fiercely, but he simply wasn’t strong enough to shake Faenol off.

The kiss went on and on, until he was completely out of breath. All the while, Dowd squirmed, trying desperately to escape.

“...W-What, w-wait, w-what is the meaning of this...?”

As soon as their lips parted, Dowd blurted out in utter shock, clearly frightened out of his wits.

She breathed heavily. Her face was intermingled with what seemed like sheer terror.

Almost as if...

Some sort of ‘trauma’ had been triggered.

“...”

“...”

Both Dowd and Faenol looked on with bewildered expressions.

‘That’ very Chancellor...

Someone who, if she wished, could even have the Empress of the Empire grovel at her feet...

The woman known as the Iron-Blooded Chancellor...

Was now stepping back as if she were a frightened child at that single phrase Dowd had uttered.

“...Chancellor?”

“Take the patient away, Faenol.”

With a tone significantly harder than before, Sullivan issued such a command.

“...An urgent matter...came up...so I must...take...my leave first.”

After barely getting such words out, Sullivan quickly turned and scurried away.

Rather, she practically sprinted down the corridor.

“...”

“...”

Silence lingered for a few minutes.

“...Did I say something wrong?”

“Who knows...?”

In the wake of Sullivan’s abrupt departure, Dowd and Faenol were left standing there, sharing the same look of confusion.

“...Chancellor?”

Dizziness.

That was the only thing Sullivan felt when she arrived in front of her quarters in Elfante.

“...Chancellor, are you alright?”

Despite her attendant’s repeated inquiries, Sullivan did not respond. Instead, she rushed into the room with a pallid face.

And then, immediately after...

“...Eup...!”

Upon reaching the bathroom, she vomited out everything in her stomach.

In her mind, ‘old’ memories of the times she had shared with someone replayed.

Memories of a very distant past.

Ones that shouldn’t exist in ‘this world’. Those kinds of memories filled her head.

-Thank you, Sullivan, as always.

She remembered a certain someone’s voice.

-I know you are busy with Chancellor duties, but please take it easy a bit. And rely on me a bit, too.

Their warmth.

-...Even if they call you a ‘Devil’s Vessel’ or whatever, I, at the very least, will never leave you.

Smile.

Memories that persisted even through the ‘regression’ of the world...

They assaulted her mind, consumed her consciousness.

Then...

The phrase she had just heard echoed again.

-...I’d rather you k-kill me, Chancellor...

She knew that he didn’t mean it when he said so.

Both situations were entirely different, and she knew better than anyone that there wasn’t any real intent behind his words.

Still...

“...”

For her, it was a nightmarish experience.

All the precious memories she remembered...

Was now being overshadowed by that one single phrase uttered by the ‘same person’...

Turning them into the most horrific scene.

-I’m begging you.

It was a rainy day.

She remembered the awfully obliterated Imperial Palace.

And the figure of a certain man, breathing faintly in her arms.

-Please, I’m begging you.

-I’m so sorry, but I’m just in so... so much pain...

-...Could you please just kill me instead?

The smell of blood on her hands, the stench of entrails on her feet.

And the sight of Dowd Campbell, who had pleaded to her with a smile that he had barely managed to form.

As soon as those memories, covered in dust on the other side of consciousness, started replaying...

“...Eu-...Eup...-!”

With tears staining her face, Sullivan continued to vomit violently.

After a long while, she had nothing left to throw up. But despite this, the nausea persisted.

“...”

How long had she continued as such?

Completely drained, Sullivan collapsed right then and there.

“...No. This time...”

Her voice, mixed with sobs, barely managed to let out a whisper.

“In this world... No... It won’t happen...”

In an incessantly absent-minded state...

“I can protect him...”

The Golden Chancellor murmured as if whimpering.

“I won’t let him die...”

She would make sure of it.

No matter the cost. Even if she had to sacrifice everything.

No Devil, no damned Prophet, no Empress, no Pope, none of them...

Could ever take Dowd Campbell away from her.

‘...At the very least, not this time...’

Gasping for breath, Sullivan clung to that resolve as a faint golden Demonic Aura glimmered around her /genesisforsaken