Arc 7, Chapter 106 - 'Bastions in Chaos (Part Three)”

Arc 7, Chapter 106 - “Bastions in Chaos (Part Three)”

When Berstetz Fondalfon made his return to the throne room, noticing something strange, he came to find that the door to the most venerable room in the Crystal Palace was firmly closed.

The word “closed” did not simply refer to the mere opening or closing of the door.

In this case, “closed” literally meant that the door was completely sealed off from the outside world. It was a manifestation of the intention of the master of the palace, the intention to never let anyone else enter.

However――,

???: [――In this case, I wonder whiiich~ of the two Emperors’ intentions is more appropriate to keep in mind for this, Prime Minister-sama?]

Berstetz came to a stop, narrowing his already thread-like eyes even further to the utmost, due to the clownish manner of the delicate man that was stretching out his arms and standing in front of the closed door.

The man standing there with a faint smile on his face was an exception of some sort, being allowed to enter and leave the Crystal Palace as he pleased because of his Stargazer peculiarity, making him an unpredictable entity who had obtained the position of being neither friend nor foe.

Berstetz: [Ubilk-dono, regarding the throne room...]

Ubilk: [I’m not gonna leave you high and dry, so I’ll tell you the truth. His Excellency the Emperor is present. Both the real and the fake, so they shooould~ get their face-to-face meeting.]

Berstetz: [...Incomprehensible.]

Even though he had an inkling, Berstetz chose to respond like this as he placed his hand on his chin.

Exactly as he had mouthed, it was incomprehensible to him, and there was no doubt that the situation was difficult for him to just accept. At Berstetz’s reaction, Ubilk tilted his head, saying “Incomprehensible?”,

Ubilk: [What’s so hard to accept? Are you wondering how the real Emperor was brought here? If that’s the case, I was guided by the whispers of the stars...]

Berstetz: [Even on the battlefield, you can manage to walk down a path that is free from falling arrows. Even if soldiers are slashing at each other in close quarters, you are able to step through without a splatter of blood reaching you, let alone their sword blows, correct?]

Ubilk: [Yeah, that’s hooow~ it is. But that’s not all.]

With a smirk Ubilk nodded, making no pretense of hiding anything.

As ridiculous as it sounded, Berstetz had bore witness to Ubilk’s abnormal abilities with his own eyes.

Ubilk had once leisurely walked through a literal rainstorm of projectiles and a forest of swords without suffering a single scratch. Ubilk claimed to follow the whisperings of the stars, but Berstetz could not determine whether him possessing superhuman fighting skills was true or lie.

If one thing could be said for certain, then it was that he was enveloped by a power beyond human understanding, be it the whispering of the stars or Ubilk’s own abilities.

And because he was so useful, neither the real Vincent Vollachia nor the fake Vincent Vollachia had been willing to let go of Ubilk.

Everything was――,

Berstetz: [To serve as a guiding light, for the purpose of preventing the Great Disaster.]

Ubilk: [Whaaat’s~ this, wasn’t it due to my own humanity being acknowledged?]

Berstetz: [If anyone was to be called forth to the Crystal Palace because of their humanity, it would be General First-Class Goz. Aside from him, everyone else would be called due to their abilities. I myself am no exception.]

From the perspective of running a nation, personal attachment was nothing more than the sound of insects flying, it ought be ignored.

That was Berstetz’s view, and it was almost certainly the same view held by both Vincent Vollachias.

It was not a question of good and bad, or likes and dislikes, but rather a topic that should be discussed from the perspective of necessity.

In that regard, Berstetz was only a necessary cogwheel at this point. If his position were to become unnecessary or worthless, he would have no qualms about being removed.

Ubilk should not deviate from his required role as well, regardless of his resolve.

Berstetz: [If you were aware of this, you would not have overlooked this plot of mine and His Excellency who sits on the throne now, would you?]

Ubilk: [Could it be that you consider my actions as betrayal? Thaaat’s~ complicated. After all, in order to betray, you gotta be trusted first. Or, do you trust in me?]

Berstetz: [No, not at all.]

Ubilk: [That so? It hurts me to have that be said, but...]

Putting his hand on his forehead, Ubilk looked amused as he spoke of how much it had hurt him. Whether this was out of placidity or something else, Berstetz had never witnessed him failing to keep a straight expression.

He had never thought of this as unpleasant before, but at this moment, he considered him an eyesore for the very first time.

The real Vincent Vollachia, who had been banished from the Crystal Palace, thus relinquishing of his title as Emperor―― he had now been brought through the door, pushed into this decisive scene.

Ubilk: [Allow me to answer one question, Esteemed Prime Minister... I haven’t changed my standpoint.]

Berstetz: [――What standpoint, exactly?]

Berstetz inquired whether he purported to be a friend or foe. Upon hearing that, Ubilk put his hands together in front of his chest, making a sound that echoed through the air.

Ubilk: [Of course, my standpoint of wishing to avert the Great Disaster and maintain the peace and quiet of the Vollachian Empire.]

Berstetz: [――. For that reason, the confrontation on the other side of this door is necessary?]

Ubilk: [Yes, that’s right, that’s right. Everything I do is for the sake of that. ――The beating of my heart, the breathing that inflates and deflates my lungs, the flow of blood through my body, everything.]

Berstetz: [――――]

Berstetz remained silent in response to Ubilk continuing on, tapping on his own chest.

Ubilk’s unchanging smile, unwavering demeanor, and somewhat devilish gaze seemed to be sane and serious to Berstetz’s eyes.

He could not say for certain whether that sanity and seriousness was a peek into the other side of madness.

Berstetz: [――Your Excellency, what will you do?]

As Ubilk stood guarding the great door and the two Emperors faced each other on the other side of it―― Berstetz muttered to himself, thinking of the person he had banished.

Berstetz did not care if he were to be beheaded, if his soul were to be lit ablaze, if he were subjected to any other kind of brutal execution.

If Vincent Vollachia, one of the wisest Emperors in the history of the Empire, truly wished to be Emperor, so be it.

Therefore――,

△▼△▼△▼△

???: [A man always quick to act, always light in words. I would not count on something of the ilk of the Stargazer, who placed his faith in the skies above.]

???: [Firstly, I expect no sort of loyalty from that thing. If hierarchy were to be established based on loyalty, Vollachia would not have been preserved as it is till the present day. But then again...]

???: [――――]

???: [Had my ruin come as a result of being unable to question the upsides and downsides of the ambitions you have hidden, then one could easily say it is but natural that the prospect of me stepping through the Palace floor like this would be one so far off in the distance, now would it.]

Treading upon the blood-red carpet, Abel posed a question to the one before his eyes, the former’s gaze fixed on the latter, arms crossed.

There was no room for debate as to whose hand had aided Abel in this instance of arriving here. That man, who read through the peculiarities of that which was outside the norm, pouring heart and soul into realizing the wishes of the Observers, was without peer in regard to the act of treading the outside of the game board.

Much akin to a loose cannon. However, a cannon that could not be divested of its station, unless the conditions were to be met.

Identifying the conditions for forcefully divesting that loose cannon of its post had been a particularly difficult task to the extreme, being that making it stir was a double-edged sword. Yet, he had done it.

The fact that he was now once more setting foot on the throne room from which he had been ousted, was proof of that.

The scheming, the concealment up until this moment, it was no exaggeration to state that it had all been done in order to wrestle back this opportunity.

Abel: [――――]

The face of the man sitting on the throne he had his eyes set on, the one to whom he was about to pose a question, was one Abel had seen many times.

His own face, it was. It went far beyond logic like mere intimate familiarity or whatnot.

It was a visage that to others would appear like that of Vincent Vollachia himself; however, to Abel, who had known the man who had mastered the art of disguising himself with that face for years, it appeared to be a poorly-crafted mask.

A mask would remain a mask however, even if poorly crafted.

A mask over one’s face concealed their true visage, accomplishing the role of covering up their real thoughts, making them invisible. Henceforth, Abel posed his questions not with his eyes, but with his words.

And in addition, he posed a straightforward, piercing question, one devoid of any smoke and mirrors.

Abel: [――Have your wishes in ousting me, thus joining Berstetz, come true?]

The query spoken by Abel, had anyone heard it, was one that would surely have caused outrage.

The aftermath of the banishment drama that had begun in a room in the Crystal Palace had already spread throughout the entirety of the Empire. Even now, Imperial Soldiers and rebels were clashing by the walls surrounding the Imperial Capital, their lives continuously being scattered to the wind.

The people living in the Imperial Capital, too, were entrusting their lives to the outcome.

Against this backdrop, Abel’s question was the sort that could not escape being criticized as leisurely.

Still, Abel had voiced so. The rebel, who preferred not wasting a single thing, who had worked out so many wily schemes to get to this point, had voiced so. Because, it was necessary.

To determine what Abel―― Nay, the real Vincent Vollachia, ought to seek in the forthcoming dialogue with the fake Vincent Vollachia.

Finally, after pausing for a time too long to even be hesitation, yet too short to be dubbed contemplation――,

Vincent: [――No, not yet. I have not yet obtained the result I seek.]

In a voice imitative of the one that had cast the inquery, thus was the answer from the false Emperor to the true Emperor.

Abel: [――――]

For that reply, Abel likewise needed a moment of time.

He paused for a breath, putting neither hesitation nor contemplation betwixt.

And then――,

Abel: [Have yet to obtain what you seek, is it?]

As that spilled from him, he closed both his eyes. ――Going against the natural habit he had.

Never did Abel close both eyes simultaneously. He was forced to keep one eye open at all times, lest his preparations be too deficient as an Emperor who ruled his Empire lifeless after the blink of an eye.

The point here was not that for Abel, who by product of training and self-awareness was capable of keeping one eye open even when sleeping, his consciousness remaining half-awake, this marked the first time in several years in which darkness came as a result of closing both his eyes.

It was that by doing so, by possessing the very capability of doing so, Abel had made an assertion of his own intents.

In other words,

Abel: [That is deceit.]

From the moment he had set foot into the throne room, no anger, no disappointment had been present within Abel’s voice and gaze both. The same applied even when it came to being before the man who had performed an act of treachery, stabbing him in the back. His steely self-control had allowed him to do so.

Here, Abel’s voice, which had assiduously rejected all emotion, was for the first time laced with a tone.

A tone of disdain which he had stopped concealing, directed towards the person who had disguised himself in his own visage.

Vincent: [――――]

With those words spoken, the false Emperor, warming his throne, kept his silence.

Silent, he kept. Though, it would have been somewhat helpful had his silence been out of trifling pride.

Abel: [Ousting myself from the throne, you removed that damned Goz from the equation as he had gained knowledge of the situation, schemed to anticipate and crush my plans after my escape, and took part in the destruction of the Demon City. The smoldering embers have spread to the entire nation, permitting that the bounds of the Imperial Capital, a place where rebels armed with their designs of insurrection have never been allowed to reach, would at last have their tainted, boorish feet enter it.]

Vincent: [Do you believe it would have not come to pass, had it been yourself on the throne?]

Abel: [To begin with, had I been on the throne, all this now would not have come to fruition. As a result, the conflagration you have brought upon has scorched the Empire. However.]

Thereupon cutting off his sentence, Abel extended his hand towards the oni mask that covered his face.

And then――,

Abel: [――A way to immediately snuff out these flames exists.]

Emilia lowered the corners of her amethyst eyes at the sight of Madelyn’s unconscious sleeping face.

Madelyn had always been hostile, angry, and unwilling to listen, but Emilia did not know her well enough to dislike her for it.

What she did know, was that the reason she was angry laid in her feelings for someone she cared about, and Mezoreia had come down to help Madelyn in this way.

If Mezoreia were to die while she was asleep, just what would happen to Madelyn’s mind?

Emilia: [Madelyn, wake up! Wake up already!]

They were in the middle of a battle. Moreover, Cecilus had saved Emilia’s life from peril.

It was impossible for her to be so selfish as to ask him to back off or not to kill Mezoreia.

Therefore, that only left Madelyn. Only she could end the battle without Madelyn herself or Mezoreia, who had come to her aid, losing their lives.

Cecilus: [Oh, I see! So the wing’s joint is weak!]

Despite Emilia’s hopes and considerations, the analysis from Cecilus, who had been cheering for battle, proceeded.

Looking back at her memories of fighting Volcanica, at the time Emilia had had no idea of what the weaknesses of the creature known as a Dragon would be, but Cecilus seemed to be different.

The blow of Cecilus’s sword had met the joint of one of the Dragon’s wings as he had stated, as he continued to fight in the air using the Dragon’s body as a foothold, not falling out of the air, while dodging the attacks from its wings and its tail in an attempt to fling him away.

In an instant, the nature of the scream changed, and blue blood dripped onto the snow-white decoration.

It was proof that a slash had skewered the sturdy scales, reaching beyond them.

Cecilus: [If a Dragon were to lose its wings, what would make it different from a ground dragon? Have you had a chance to learn how to fight while on the ground in your long lifetime?]

He was not mocking it, nor was he belittling it.

Cecilus’s tone of voice had remained the same; if anything, he was saying it to hype himself up. But even Emilia was convinced that what he had been saying was about to become a reality.

If Emilia had been convinced, Mezoreia, who was being directly swung at by the sword, ought to be even more convinced of it.

A Dragon having its wings cut off, thus falling to the ground.

Emilia, who had no wings and was not a Dragon, could not imagine how unbearable that would be. But she could see how it would take away Mezoreia’s chances of winning.

It was hard to believe that Cecilus, who could not be kept up with even in the sky, could be kept up with on the ground.

Mezoreia: [――This dragon is...!!]

A moment later, Mezoreia’s low voice boomed, trying to sweep aside the impending humiliation.

Kicking Mezoreia in the flank, Cecilus leapt up and his slash drew near the root of its wing. Just before it hit, it did a spinning drill and flipped from down facing to upward facing while airborne.

Looking up towards Cecilus aiming for the wing, Mezoreia’s draconic arm reared up in front of the former.

A human body could easily be torn apart if it were hooked in either the claws or the scales.

Even Cecilus, who could move fast, was no exception to this, making Emilia come near to shrieking. But Emilia’s scream was directed not at Cecilus’s death, but at something else.

Cecilus: [Hoowee, that was a close one!]

The swinging arm of the Dragon had certainly caught Cecilus in midair.

However, Cecilus aligned his sole against the Dragon arm striking at him, allowing him to run alongside the arm while it unleashed its ferocious blow.

Launching himself using the tip of the Dragon’s claw as a stephold, he started running near the Dragon’s elbow.

He had been able to convert a strike that would have blown his body apart upon impact into an opportunity to run and jump out of the way; it was his ridiculous foot speed that had allowed him to escape an otherwise certain death.

Cecilus: [Beauty-san!]

Emilia: [Ah, yes!]

Being called a beauty, Emilia was at loss for any words of modesty in response.

Instinctively sensing why she was being called upon, Emilia leapt away from the tip of the Dragon’s arm, then casting a new weapon of frost in Cecilus’s vicinity, who had landed on the ice wall.

Cecilus quickly picked it up, turning to Mezoreia, who was about to give chase, and bent his knees in preparation for another leap.

The distance that had opened between them could be closed in the blink of an eye, but in there laid Mezoreia’s chance for victory, as right now no attacks from Cecilus could reach it.

Naturally, Mezoreia would put all of its energy into this. ――At least, that was what ought to have happened.

Cecilus: [Hm?]

Getting ready for an immediate attack, Cecilus tilted his head while he crouched down.

Despite his tacit understanding and despite the fact that he was giving up the first move, the expected attack did not arrive.

Emilia seemingly harbored the same doubts as Cecilus. Before she even knew it, Emilia understood that this was the final frontier between over victory or defeat as she was pushed to her limits.

And yet, Mezoreia did not move. On the contrary――,

Mezoreia: [――――]

Immediately before this moment, Mezoreia had tried to swing its Dragon arm to obliterate Cecilus. Having stopped moving in midair, its white eyeballs with pupils and irises black stared at a single point.

At Cecilus, who had tried to put it on the ropes, making it taste humiliation―― that was not so.

Aside from Cecilus, who was posturing on the ice wall, and Emilia, who was cradling Madelyn, there was another presence that Mezoreia could not ignore on this white-dyed battlefield.

Mezoreia, still as if it had been struck dead, raised its gaze even higher into the sky.

It stopped and gazed towards a point in the sky much, much higher than its own.

Emilia: [...Is there, something flying?]

Emilia followed Mezoreia’s gaze and focused on the ashen, snow-laden clouds.

Even higher in the sky than where Mezoreia’s huge body floated, there was a shadow of something flying just barely visible to Emilia’s eyesight.

The only options Emilia could consider flying in the sky were the Dragon in front of her, the flying dragons that flew in numbers across the battlefield, or Roswaal getting sidetracked during his travel time.

And――,

Mezoreia: [――It can’t be.]

Mezoreia flapped its wings as it muttered this.

The body of the idling Dragon resumed its movement. However, it was not a move to unleash a decisive attack like it was supposed to do just prior,

Cecilus: [Whaaa!? Heyheyhey, wait, wait, this can’t be happening!?]

As soon as Cecilus observed its movement, his expression trembled with the greatest of shock.

Until then, his expression had seemed to be happy regardless of what was done to him, but now his eyes darted about quickly in bewilderment. That was only natural. At a time he had expected his opponent to rush in, Mezoreia turning its back like that was quite unbelievable.

Mezoreia: [――――]

Not heeding Cecilus’s voice, Mezoreia flapped its wings and tore through the sky.

Once the Dragon had decided to fly and started moving, its speed was extraordinary, turning back and rising into the sky so swiftly, that it was like an arrow being shot with full force.

Cecilus: [You think I’ll let you do that!!]

In order to prevent the airborne Dragon from escaping, Cecilus bent his knees not for a counter-attack, but to explosively unleash the strength required from his legs to chase after the flying Dragon.

The small body made an incredible thrust, causing the thick, huge ice wall to fissure and crumble starting from his sole, as Cecilus’s body leapt away.

Flying in a straight line, Cecilus’s figure surpassed the Dragon’s speed, homing in on its wings. He drew closer. Closer, closer, and closer, until――,

Cecilus: [――Ah, damn, looks like I can’t reach.]

No matter how fast Cecilus was on his feet and how far he could leap, he was incapable of erasing the distance to the Dragon which was already in the sky.

Alas, Cecilus’s body could not keep up with Mezoreia, the latter pulling away, and once he hit the apex of his leap, he lost his momentum, dropping back down. Had the Cloud Dragon shifted its aim and gone for Cecilus, even he would perhaps have been in danger.

But Mezoreia did not retaliate. Instead, it rose steadily and ripped through the sky.

And――,

Cecilus: [――It’s heading into the Imperial Capital?]

△▼△▼△▼△

――Changes had taken place in multiple places in the siege of the Imperial Capital, amongst them, the developments that had occurred in two places were of particular importance.

At the same time these had transpired outside of the Crystal Palace, within the throne room, two Emperors met face-to-face, their gazes so close together that their eyelashes could have touched those of the other.

Abel: [――――]

The rebel ringleader, Abel, had been a move behind; however, he switched gears on the spot.

He leaned forwards as to play his best move―― or rather, to play the next best move he had, against the person donning a visage identical to his own, who had approached his immediate front before his eyes.

Abel: [――Hk.]

A sharp strike was delivered to his left clavicle, his thoughts soldering red from the severe blow.

Taking a look, he saw that what had struck the base of his neck was being held by the hand of the one right before him, an iron fan―― the preferred weapon of the person wearing the same visage as his own, an object he knew from sight.

Handling that weapon took something special, and he had harbored doubts of just how powerful a thing it was, many times in the past.

Abel: [――――]

The fact that he had attained the answer to his past questions, the pain penetrating his brain, he consciously excised them both from his thoughts.

Picture in your mind the priorities of the present moment and immediately formulate measures to address them. Taking into consideration a combination of feasibility and effectiveness, alongside your injuries, arrange the priorities.

But――,

Vincent: [This is not a board game. This is why you are not worthy of being a warrior, it feeeels.] [1]

Faster than Abel was able to choose from the myriad of options that had emerged within his head, the warrior displayed the techniques that had permeated his body, his veins, rather than his head.

Mercilessly twisting Abel’s arm, he snatched away the thing which was held by the now-weakened limb, and in the moment following that, Abel’s vision was covered in dark for an instant.

Abel: [――――]

Has he crushed my eyes, or have my eyes been blinded in some way?

A moment’s pondering, negated by the fact that his blocked vision returned immediately afterwards. If so, what had been the true meaning behind the other party’s actions? And coincident with those thoughts, he realized.

――That again, his own face was covered with something that felt familiar.

Abel: [You――]

And thus his lips, moving faster than his hands or feet, let out a sound as he glared into the black eyes before him.

With those words from Abel, on whom he had put the oni mask that had previously been snatched away, the false Emperor before him―― No, Chisha Gold, twisted his lips, the lips on a face that was not his own.

Recognizing that upon his own face was an awfully decadent smile, Abel’s eyes widened.

A moment later――,

Abel: [――――]

――A white light came rushing in, piercing a wall of the throne room, and perforated the chest of the one at the apex of the Empire, Vincent Vollachia, from behind. [2]

Notes:

[1] Vincent’s speech style here changes somewhat dramatically, switching the way he refers to Abel via a second-person pronoun, from the usual Emperor-ly “貴様” to a more casual (or even disrespectful, considering the context) “あなた”, among other changes. This perhaps serves to indicate that he’s dropping the facade right now, and acting as Chisha Gold rather than a fake of Vincent Vollachia.

[2] A nuance that is a little bit lost in translation, is that “頂点” is here translated as “apex”, in “apex of the Empire”, but it is also the same word used to refer to the bastions of the Imperial Capital’s walls, which is present in the title of the chapter.