< 128. The Butterfly’s Dream (6) >
*
Time passes. For some, it’s relentless, but for others, it’s overwhelmingly dense. Time is a limited resource for everyone, but it’s not a fair one.
“Do you think so?”
“I curse you.”
“Go ahead.”
-Crackle!
An underground cavern littered with countless corpses. A space where the thick scent of blood drives the senses wild. The walls are densely covered with ancient Asias magical scripts, and blood seeps through the floor’s cracks, forming intricate patterns.
None of the corpses are in a normal state. They are tangled, twisted, mixed, and clumped together.
Dale Pertas’s experimental workshop. One of the secret bases of the fallen Bronze Scales. Fernandez personally raided this gruesome biolab.
The enemy might have thought it was a fierce battle. But no, a fight with a predetermined outcome can never be truly fierce. Fernandez moved busily yet acted as casually as if he were out for a stroll.
“My old friend. Haha, old friend. Curse me. Hate me.”
“Your betrayal will be whispered by all the demons of hell. Faijashi Wildcast…”
“Do it.”
-Crunch!
Fernandez grabbed Dale’s head and pressed it down roughly. Dale gasped, his face buried in the blood and filth. Listening to his groans, Fernandez placed his foot on Dale’s head.
“Keep talking. Every time you call my name, they’ll realize something.”
“Ugh…”
Faijashi. In the ancient Melachum Empire’s dialect, it means ‘traitor.’ The day he first chose this name, he swore to betray humanity. A childish vow. Fernandez twisted his lips and pressed harder.
-Squelch.
“Hate me. Go to hell. Go and tell your master clearly. Curse and hate me.”
So that my sins may grow larger and wider. So that the depth of my sins may deepen and finally overflow.
Until I can devour you all.
Faijashi. In the ancient Melachum dialect, ‘traitor’… Yes. Betrayal is most effective when aimed at those who least expect it. The moment he first decided to betray humanity, humanity never let its guard down around him.
But now, in this moment. Over these past few years, as he slaughtered demons, rooted out heretics, and burned apostates, they must have felt it deeply. The most effective betrayal Fernandez could show!
-Gurgle…
Dale’s breathing grew rapid in the bloody foam, then stopped. Fernandez kicked Dale’s cold, lifeless head and flicked his fingers.
-Tap.
“Burn it.”
At his command, those lined up behind him began hurling firebombs. Those who dabbled in dark magic, or those who lost loved ones to such people, had gathered behind him. Murderers who hated each other, staining their hands with sin.
The Legion of Traitors. The Monastery of Sin. Religiosa Maledika. Three years since its founding.
*
Three years since the Monastery of Sin was established. Humanity was finding stability at an astonishing pace. The evil that had been hard to identify finally revealed itself, and the shadowy demons burned away in the flames.
The apostates and dark mages who survived the Inquisition Office’s long pursuit and fierce battles could not escape Fernandez’s grasp.
In the Inquisition Office’s headmaster’s room, markers gradually appeared on the large map hanging there. Missing Inquisition Officers, heresy incidents. And the markings of completely purified regions, more intense than any era or moment!
“The day may come when we have to canonize you as a saint.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, brother.”
Fernandez chuckled and stole Marco’s tea. Marco laughed heartily and tapped the table.
“Was it this easy? Was it this smooth?”
“Of course it was.”
Though still unsure if this was reality, Fernandez smiled contentedly as he looked at the map. That day, before he entered this twilight.
Thinking back on the intense year he spent as ‘Saint’ Fernandez, this level of difficulty was within the expected range.
If the year of ‘Saint’ Fernandez, who had no power or influence, was like that… Then the three years of ‘Traitor’ Fernandez, who wielded the Secrets of Magic and commanded the Inquisition Office’s elite soldiers with one hand, had to be this way.
“Right. The Northern Invasion and the Southern Counteroffensive. Let’s talk about those two events now.”
Marco cautiously broached the subject, looking at Fernandez. These were issues Fernandez wanted to avoid. They were events that could only be prepared for, not fundamentally prevented.
The Northern Invasion was on the countdown. And after that? The time for Karadskar’s Northern Campaign would come.
Assassinating Karadskar was nearly impossible. Before he built his power, he was just an unknown commoner, impossible to track. And after he built his power, assassinating him was a suicide mission.
But the Northerners’ invasion could at least be prepared for. After all, it was an event that the Eastern Kingdom Alliance had managed to stop. Marco thought of Fernandez’s prophecy.
“King Vicente pushed back the Franzrit bloodline, but he hasn’t fully reclaimed the Northern Sea yet. According to your ‘prophecy,’ isn’t this the time when things get dangerous?”
“It’s fine. If Franzrit were alive, it would be truly dangerous, but we can handle it with some losses.”
“Some losses…”
“Every kingdom along the Northern coastline will burn, and half of the Leviathan Empire will be engulfed in flames.”
Fernandez smirked. That level of loss was acceptable. But Marco’s expression hardened.
“Are you joking?”
“What does it matter? If the civilized world’s power weakens, demon worshippers will rise—that’s the natural order… But I’m here, aren’t I? If they act up, it’ll make things easier and more convenient.”
“You… Don’t you see the people who will die in the meantime?”
“It can’t be helped, brother.”
Fernandez’s eyes…
The gloomy light flickered. He set down his teacup, interlaced his fingers, and sank into his chair.
“If I had moved just ten years earlier, yes. I might have been able to stop the pitch-black Erik. If I had been given twenty more years, I might have had the chance to solidify the foundation of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance.”
Indeed, he had tried. During his time as the ‘Saint’ Fernandez, the first thing he undertook was resolving the heresy case of the Phaeirn Royal Family, eradicating corruption in the Dane Kingdom, and expelling the Franzrit bloodline.
All these preparations were part of a grand plan considering the northern invasion. But what use is that now? Fernandez was no longer the seventeen-year-old ‘Saint’ youth. He was a dark mage in his forties, and it was already too late to prepare now.
Then, he had to do what he could now. He couldn’t afford to stop and lament the past; he had too much to do. His time was always a limited resource.
“The preparations now are just desperate attempts to make the worst slightly better. There’s no significant difference between the two. Then, it’s right to let go of the north now.”
“We can’t turn a blind eye to the believers who will die at the hands of the infidels.”
“We are not the Doctrine Guardians or the Order of the Cross Crusaders. We are Inquisition Officers. Our job is not to be a shield protecting the believers.”
Fernandez tapped here and there on the map with his fingertip.
“Here, the base of the [Blood Rovers]. This area, the seal of the [Steel Legion]. And this place, let’s see… It must be the activity area of the [Crimson Unit] at this time. This is our job, brother.”
He spoke to Marco, who was looking at the map with a somber expression.
“Our job is not to protect the believers from the enemy’s hands but to directly cut out the sinners who gnaw at and burn the civilized society.”
He did not act hoping for the salvation of humanity. What he desired was only the salvation of himself and his family. Fernandez looked at the map with weary eyes.
It’s almost over now. No matter how this dawn ends. Even if this moment is not reality. His goal was rushing towards the pinnacle.
Even if this is just self-deception. Even if all his efforts now are just illusions. So that this can be his tribute to Aria.
And at least, all his actions now will be an experiment to gauge the best he can do.
‘Mumto.’
For the first time in a while, he called out the name of the Great Demon. To that being who still does not intervene in his reality.
‘I hope this is not a dream. You should too. If this was just an illusion, you will die by my hand.’
And your demon comrades will die the same way. As the price for giving me the information of this era…
*
Aria was groaning, slightly lifting her thin-framed glasses. Her desk was cluttered with numerous experimental tools, reagents, and experiment logs.
She always got stuck at this part. Aria slowly moved her hands while reading the textbook Fernandez had left behind. Her long, slender fingers delicately traced the air, and magic began to harmonize at her fingertips.
-Fizz
Soon, the incantation tangled, and a hazy smoke spread in the air. It was a failure. The spell’s knot was not properly formed. Aria grumbled and added another failure record to her experiment log.
“The angle between the thumb and index finger needs to be 15 degrees narrower. And the wrist should have been tilted more to the right.”
“Ah… Teacher?!”
“Here, look.”
-Swish.
A thin, bony hand reached from behind her and grasped her right hand. It was a rough and crude hand. While Aria was flustered, the hand adjusted her gesture anew.
“Remember this angle. And like this…”
-Swish.
Magic flowed from her forearm, connecting the spell, and bloomed from her fingertips. Soon, a green transparent liquid rose in the beaker placed before her.
“Do you understand now?”
“Do you eat properly?”
“You weren’t listening to me.”
“Goodness, look how thin you are.”
Aria grabbed the retreating hand and turned her head. Fernandez was looking down at her with an awkward expression. She slowly reached out and stroked Fernandez’s gaunt chin and cheek.
“Doesn’t the church feed you? That’s too much.”
“I eat well. Don’t worry about me—”
“Teacher loves meat so much, does the church serve meat dishes?”
“Would I complain about side dishes at this age? Now, instead of my matters—”
“When did you last wash these clothes? Look at the dust! Doesn’t the church do laundry? This won’t do. I need to go and give them a piece of my mind.”
“I wash my own clothes. Now, Aria. I came here—”
“Ah, right. Look at me. Sit down quickly, Teacher. Sit down first, um… Milk? Should I get you some milk?”
“…Milk is fine.”
Fernandez, dragged around by Aria, finally managed to sit on a chair. Aria quickly went to the kitchen and prepared some refreshments.
“This is the bacon I bought yesterday. This and bread… Ah, right. Should I bring out some soup?”
“I didn’t come here to eat. Aria. So listen to me—”
“How did you get in? I set up a bunch of alarm spells!”
“I taught you those spells; do you think I can’t handle them?”
“Ahaha.”
Aria laughed brightly and sat across from him. She stared intently at the milk and bread. Fernandez awkwardly took a bite of the bread, chewed, and then looked at Aria’s brightened face.
“Yes, Teacher. What’s the matter?”
“The atmosphere isn’t lively.”
Fernandez put down the bread and sighed. He reached behind him and pulled out a flower he had prepared earlier.
“It’s not conjured by magic; I bought it on my way here. Aria.”
“Oh, thank you.”
It was a bouquet made of freesias. Aria happily smiled and hugged the flowers. He looked at her face and carefully spoke.
“This year. Aria.”
“Huh?”
“This year, my role will be roughly over. After that, the situation will progress to a level where the church folks can handle the cases sufficiently without me.”
“…Where are you going again?”
“Yes.”
Fernandez looked at Aria with uneasy eyes. He slowly reached out and stroked her hair.
“By your side.”
He withdrew his hand from her hair. In his hand was now a simple, unadorned ring. With a slightly trembling hand, he took Aria’s hand.
“Ah…”
“After that, I will never leave your side. Aria. Can you wait for me?”
“Did you make this with magic too?”
“…Uh… No?”
“That’s strange. Teacher.”
Aria looked at him with tearful eyes and smiled.
“It’s a magical moment.”
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