262. The Method of Distinguishing Good and Evil (10)
In the dim light of dawn, Abel slowly opened her eyes. Sleep wasn’t absolutely necessary for her, as she was originally a dragon’s incarnation, but she occasionally indulged in it.
“Good morning.”
Abel smiled softly and looked at the bed. Her sleep pattern was once every three days. And that was also Fernandez’s general sleep pattern. Once every three days, for five hours.
The minimum rest time required to maintain Diemonica’s physical functions. Abel enjoyed falling asleep and waking up at the same time as Fernandez. But what she saw was an empty bed.
“…He really can’t stay still, can he?”
Abel sighed deeply and straightened herself. Since she was closer to a spirit form, there were no physiological changes, so she only needed to tidy up her appearance after sleep.
* * *
The hallway was cool. Paltennoia was geographically supposed to be warm and temperate, but due to the atmospheric layer constantly covering the city, winters were harsh and summers were cool. A blue light seeped in through the window. Gazing at the hazy dawn sky, she slowly moved her feet.
“Did you cough?”
“Yes. Do you happen to know where he is?”
“He’s in the inner garden.”
“Thank you.”
Abel greeted the servant cleaning in the morning and headed to the inner garden. The mansions of the seven Dukes, the most powerful figures in the Empire, were anything but humble. The Duke’s mansion was no exception.
The hallway and wide corridors leading to the inner garden were adorned with lavish paintings and tapestries, and the elegant wooden railings stretched out like vines.
Abel ran her fingers along the reliefs as she walked. It was the start of a quiet and peaceful morning. Until she saw the inner garden.
* * *
‘How many times have I done this?’
– Ninety-three.
‘Just seven more, then I’ll rest.’
Huff, Fernandez bent his arms. His entire body’s muscles screamed in agony as they twitched. He was doing a handstand in the backyard, balancing on just two fingers.
– Crack.
A strange sound came from his shoulders. Diemonica’s body was far from light. Supporting its entire weight on just two fingers while maintaining balance and doing push-ups was more like an acrobat’s feat than a warrior’s.
Sweat poured down like rain, and the healing wounds reopened, forming droplets of blood. The thick muscles wrapped around his forearms writhed like snakes, trembling. Slowly bending his arms, his forehead tapped the ground, then he extended them again. One.
‘Ninety-four.’
– Thud!
‘Ah, that feels good.’
It was rehabilitation training combined with physical therapy. Since his body’s output was higher than its durability, directly striking and applying pressure would damage the muscles. A more precise, controlled impact was needed.
The physical toll from the last battle was no joke. Even for Diemonica, as long as he had a physical body, there were clear limits. Without proper care, it would slowly deteriorate.
He wasn’t afraid of his body breaking down, but it was frustrating to not be able to perform necessary functions when needed. Like sharpening a sword after battle, he was pushing his body to the limit with that same precision.
It was literal overexertion. After examining Fernandez’s body, the doctor said he needed absolute rest. It wasn’t just superficial cuts and bleeding; his entire vascular system had been torn apart during the detoxification process, deeply damaging his internal organs.
– Splat!
Finally, a stream of blood fell from his shoulder to the ground. At that moment, something fell. Fernandez wiped the sweat from his face with his left hand and looked straight ahead.
His vision was inverted from being upside down. Beyond that, he saw Abel dropping a basket of bread on the ground.
“Oh. You’re up?”
“…Did you just say ‘You’re up?'”
“Huh?”
“Get up right now!!”
Abel slammed the ground with a bang! Fernandez flipped his body, lightly adjusted his posture, and wiped the flowing sweat with a towel. He caught his breath and looked at Abel.
“What on earth are you doing this for! Isn’t this your body? Why are you treating it so harshly!”
“Because it’s my body.”
“What?”
“If someone else could do my work for me, I’d gladly hand it over and find a better way. But Abel. Time flows equally, and the lightest resource I can sacrifice is my body.”
Fernandez shrugged and opened a water bottle, gulping it down. Even at that moment, the scars on his body still glistened with droplets of blood.
“…How much time do you have left?”
“What do you mean?”
“The time you have left. Fernandez.”
Abel loves humans. To be precise, she loves mortals, especially the brightest among them. Among all mortal species, humans burn the most brilliantly and brightly. Abel was captivated by that light.
Therefore… because she loves humans… she spent her long life observing them. In this era, Abel understood the human body better than anyone else.
She knew the limits of the human body. Not just Vaitas. The gods who blessed humans were not few, and she knew the extent of the abilities of those who could digest divinity.
A few might stand out more. But all mortals have limits. Not discussing averages, but coldly calculating the absolute value of the maximum potential.
So Abel knew Fernandez was always walking on the edge of a blade. She knew humans well. Their limits too. Even their pitiful lifespans.
“How much of your life is left?”
There are no Diemonica who died of old age. Diemonica’s graves were always in the face of demons. So Fernandez could only estimate his remaining lifespan based on his previous life.
In his previous life, he lived close to ninety. Even then, he lived through hardships, which was considered a long life, but it was nothing compared to his current struggles. Since losing the blessing of immortality, he relied solely on Diemonica’s natural healing to sustain his body.
Assuming Diemonica lived 1.5 times longer than an average human, and roughly calculating the lifespan shortened by accumulated overwork…
“At most, ten years. At least… three.”
Even if he ate well, rested well, and received good treatment, the wounds a human body sustains don’t fully heal. To repair the damage, the body consumes lifespan. Little by little. Even if it’s just a tiny bit.
Diemonica. For those who carry the divinity of gods within them, the margin is even finer. It’s hard to easily determine the limits of their lifespan. But it’s certain that it’s being consumed.
Abel looked sadly at Fernandez’s bare body. Since he wasn’t wearing a shirt, the scars densely covering his body were clearly visible.
A piercing wound like a nail through his heart. A long scar from his shoulder to his collarbone, with scratches and cuts spreading like spiderwebs below. Countless scars scattered like broken glass on both forearms…
His hair, now half-gray, was at least jet black when she first met him.
It’s only been two years. In such a short time, how much of his lifespan has this young man burned like a flame? The only reward for his efforts was his hair, faded like fleeting ashes.
No matter the wound, no matter the hardship, he never stops. Even if he falls, stumbles, or collapses. He gets back up and moves forward. Never stopping, always moving forward.
Like a flame…
‘Like a flame, don’t you think, Mother?’
‘A flame?’
‘Look at me and my knights. My soldiers and their parents. Their descendants. Even at the moment their descendants end, they will never willingly give up hope. How could I not love them?’
So it’s the era of flames. So it’s the era of humans. The words her son once said to her long ago came to mind.
Facing a man who seemed to embody the essence of such a life, Abel smiled sadly.
‘How could I not love that man.’
Abel couldn’t hide her sad eyes. Fernandez wiped his sweat and put on his clothes.
“From now on, I’ll sleep every day.”
“Time is precious.”
“If sleeping eight hours adds eight hours to your life, that’s enough. That way, one night and another night will make a day.”
Abel knew the hidden meaning behind the fact that sleeping once every three days maintained functionality. The other Diemonica she knew never acted like that. Not because they didn’t know, but because they didn’t need to.
Three days is possible, but four isn’t? No. With enough will, you can go without sleep for four, five, maybe even six days.
However, the story that functionality begins to be lost means that the minimum condition is three days…
‘It means that three days is the limit of Diemonica’s body.’
Fernandez had been pushing his body to the limit for the past two years. Perhaps even longer. At the very least, that much needed to be fixed.
“Pushing your body to the limit is a bad habit. A person should always have at least a bit of leeway. Don’t you think so?”
“I’m not a fool. I already know that much…”
“No. You are a fool. You are more intelligent than any human I’ve seen, but also more stubborn than any human. Fernandez. You have no leeway. You use your body to the limit, and if you still have energy left, you create more work for yourself. As if… you can’t stand a moment without work.”
That’s obsession. Abel gave a bitter smile. She was one of the few who knew about his past life. Therefore, she knows why Fernandez can’t stop.
A sense of purpose. And guilt. Regret. Remorse. Those emotions come to torment him even in the briefest moments when he stops to catch his breath.
The reason he sleeps once every three days. If you exclude the excuse that it’s functional, you can easily find another reason. The reason why a body exhausted to its limit must fall asleep as if fainting.
“Are you afraid of dreaming?”
“…I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Sometimes, when you sleep more peacefully than usual, you always wake up earlier than I expect and look for something else to do. Do you have nightmares?”
“That’s just because the fatigue wears off quickly.”
“Isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you find a way, even if it took ten thousand tries. Why don’t you rely on me? Fernandez.”
I rely on you so much. Why do you always look elsewhere? Abel approached him and wiped the sweat from his neck with her sleeve. Fernandez didn’t avoid her and looked at her.
“Because it’s my right.”
“Right… you say?”
“The right to regret my mistakes. The right to carry my life as a gallows. The right to be myself. That’s mine. Abel. No one can swallow my regrets for me.”
Mages are scholars. Scholars who analyze the mysteries and secrets of the world with logic and reason, weaving new flows and proving them with the resource called magic.
But at the same time, mages become more sentimental than anyone else. They are those who observe the starlight in the night sky as mere flows of magic, a reductive perspective, but at the same time, they are like children who imagine the ultimate secrets no one has reached, draw ideals, and reach out for them.
Those who can see concepts as phenomena, and also imagine phenomena as concepts. Because they think in such a way, regret holds more than just a simple conceptual meaning for Fernandez.
It was a guide, a compass, and a lighthouse. Regret and remorse were both his gallows and his driving force. A resource in his heart that no one could take away. His body was merely expendable. But regret was precious.
To him, reality is synonymous with hell. Every moment, his life was like a loan shark taking as much debt from his soul as time itself. From the moment he swore to walk not for his salvation, but for the salvation of his regrets, until now.
But paradoxically, in the hell he created for himself, regret is a treasure in his realm of imagination that no one can take away.
“Fernandez.”
“Stop.”
Fernandez pushed Abel’s arm away and put on his clothes. His scar-covered body was hidden under the wide fabric. What appeared after was the same stoic face of a young man as always.
“The news you won’t like isn’t just that.”
“…What else is there?”
“It’s just as well. My biggest concern was your reaction, but if I can make it clear this time, it would be good.”
Fernandez took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
“The era where the distinction between good and evil has blurred, and nobility has become a value to be found only in history or fairy tales. Abelesas. You are the noblest being I have ever met.”
Abel was slowly reading the paper Fernandez handed over. Her hands were trembling. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to avert her eyes from the cold words sprawled across the paper.
She couldn’t. Fernandez’s eyes seemed to bind her.
“I want to give you a chance to leave. At most ten years. Spend your time in the deep mountains where no one will find you. It’s not such a long time.”
As she listened, Abel crumpled the paper.
“Is this really true? Did you… do it? Why?”
“Because the Emperor wants chaos.”
“What do you mean? Even if he is inducing worldly turmoil. Why did you encourage it?”
“Because if you have a kind of orderly plan in the midst of chaos, it’s easier to crush the plan itself with greater chaos.”
The cost of opportunity between what you put in and what you can gain is not so heavy with a few lives. Fernandez declared so.
“That’s right. I told the Pope to bring greater chaos. To take away the Emperor’s numbers and control variables so that all variables can be in my hands.”
Abel looked down at the paper again with trembling eyes. It was a brief report.
* * *
Papal Decree: Declaration of Holy War.
Target Area: Throughout the Leviathan Empire from the bases of various monasteries and subordinate knight orders.
Operation Objective: Detection and eradication of heretical circumstances.
Operation Progress:
1) Destroyed Residences: 13 locations.
2) Total Deceased: 8,412 suspected individuals.
3) Detected Heretical Circumstances: 3 cases so far.
4) Identified Threat Factors: None.
Overall Responsible: Saint Paul III.
Overall Commander: Count Vito Vincent, Commander of the Holy Cross Relief Knights.
As the Lord wills.
So be it.
* * *
“When…?”
“Ten days ago.”
“In ten days… thirteen villages burned and over eight thousand five hundred people met their deaths.”
“No. More than that. The report arrived this morning, but it was written a few days ago.”
The news is that the church’s forces are advancing through various regions, burning villages along the way. No identified threats? That was a euphemism for leaving no survivors. Literally, a massacre is happening.
“Why…?”
“The Emperor is drawing a magic circle across this entire empire. A vast and secret magic circle that even I can’t pinpoint exactly. I told them to burn every village that raises even the slightest suspicion at every border and port.”
“Was there… a need for that? If necessary, then shouldn’t they investigate? Like they’ve done so far, find out one by one with minimal loss… Was there no such method?”
Fernandez looked at her for a long time without saying anything. In truth, he was choosing his words.
‘That was the minimal damage.’
‘I didn’t have enough time.’
‘There was no other way. Don’t you know?’
‘If there was even one person to take my place, I would have gladly found another way… or at least commanded the field myself.’
But any words would just be excuses. He couldn’t bring himself to say them. He didn’t want to make excuses or lies to her. It might have been another manifestation of childish affection.
Instead of excuses, he quietly closed his eyes. Rather hoping she would leave. Hoping she would be disappointed in him, curse him, despise him, and leave…
Hoping she wouldn’t walk with him into the future of trudging through mud. The sticky, dirty path.
-Won’t you regret it?
‘Would one more regret make a difference?’
-It wouldn’t.
Faijashi grunted and closed his mouth. Then.
-Swish.
Something brushed past his cheek and went behind him. A refreshing scent lingered at the tip of his nose, and a shadow darkened under his closed eyes.
Plop, a warm droplet fell on his cheek. He opened his eyes. What he saw were blue eyes like the sky.
Hah, as he was about to open his mouth, their lips met. Warm, sweet breaths intertwined. Neither Abel nor he closed or avoided their eyes. Just straight, as if looking at the soul itself—
Their lips parted.
“I can’t read minds. Fernandez. Dragons can do many things, but at least I don’t know that method.”
“…?”
Abel, with tearful eyes, playfully smiled and then bowed her head deeply. Her shoulders were shaking.
“So… if you don’t say it, I won’t know. The things you’re carrying, the things you’re thinking. The things you’ve had to endure. If you don’t say them, I can only guess. And that… the more I guess, the bigger and more terrible it becomes. You wretched man. How could you live in such a world? How could you try to live in the world alone? Am I just a shadow swaying by your side?”
“Abel…”
“I… I.”
-Thud.
Heavy. Not physically, but the weight of her heart. Abel buried her face in Fernandez’s broad shoulder and sobbed. Hot tears soaked into his shoulder.
“I just want to share your nightmares.”
It might have been an act that negated her entire life. It might have been an act that tarnished her very nobility.
But Fernandez, more than any other moment, found Abel radiant as she declared she would walk into thorns and mud herself.
He could only close his eyes, whisper softly, and carefully pat her trembling back.
“Thank you.”
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