About Being Picked Up and Adopted by Talula

"Those who insult the late Emperor shall have their mouths and noses cut off before being subjected to the utmost punishment."

--Now, Talula, use your Originium Arts straight ahead!

Boom!!!

The Guard was enraged by Orson's words and was just about to attack when Orson suddenly darted aside. Blinding flames instantly surged forth from before Talula.

And that wasn't all.

--Crescendo.

Orson raised the pitch of the flames themselves. The originally orange-red blaze instantly turned blue-white, melting away all the ice that had frozen the surrounding area for centuries.

It wasn't over yet. Though the Guard before them had been deprived of a moment of mobility by Talula and Orson's sudden attack, the second Guard, who had been lurking within the blizzard all along, launched an attack at the same time.

"Soul Tuning—Staccato."

Orson raised a hand toward the charging Guard and slammed into its white score with brute force.

"--!"

Unlike the unlucky Enforcement Team members who had completely broken down and lost their minds before, this Guard's mental barrier was absurdly thick. Even Staccato, which aimed for "total destruction," only made it freeze in place for a moment.

But that opening was enough. The two Guards had temporarily lost several seconds of mobility in different ways. Orson immediately grabbed Talula's arm and, without hesitation, pulled her toward the cliff beside the road.

Several spear thrusts and slashes suddenly appeared behind them. The two Guards recovered and immediately pursued them.

"Hold on tight, Talula!"

Orson knew perfectly well that neither he nor Talula could stand against those things. Perhaps Patriot could, but Patriot wasn't Cao Cao.

If he couldn't win, then there was only one thing he could do.

Without hesitation, Orson dragged Talula straight off the cliff. At the same time, he drew the longsword from her waist with his other hand.

--Crescendo, High Octave.

Orson applied a melody that increased heat and strength to the greatsword, then gritted his teeth and drove it into the sheer ice-covered cliff face beside them.

"Guh—Aaaaah!"

It wasn't like it had been in his head. Though the melody-enhanced greatsword could indeed pierce the cliff and slow them down, Orson had overestimated his physical abilities.

Their combined weight and falling speed meant that the instant Orson drove the sword into the cliff, the tearing pain dislocated his arm. He let go of the sword.

"--"

Time in his mind suddenly slowed to a crawl. Orson watched the sword gradually drift away from him as his brain desperately considered the situation.

At this rate, he and Talula would fall straight down. Using the cliff to slow themselves was essential.

What could freely change its properties, be easily controlled by him, be right beside him, and not be obstructed?

Talula had finally saved him from the hell of that granary. How could he possibly... wait, the granary?

Dismembered corpses, buildings, something divided apart, something black, a Black Score—

Damn it, whatever!!

For the first time, Orson attempted to tune a "concept"—his own shadow.

Whoosh—

The Black Score intertwined with Orson's body, followed by the sensation of something being torn apart.

A massive, formless black entity extended from behind Orson. The shadow curled upward around the greatsword lodged in the cliff and gripped it tightly.

"Get ready to brace yourself, Talula!"

When they were about ten meters from the ground, the greatsword finally reached its limit. The shadow pulled Talula's sword free, and the slowed pair plunged directly into a forest of countless withered birches, whose trunks served as a buffer to some extent.

"Rua!"

Orson made an embarrassing sound as he landed face-first, half his body buried in a snowdrift like a baguette in winter.jpg.

"I can't believe that actually worked. Cough, cough!"

Orson had barely pulled himself out of the snowdrift before he suddenly coughed up a crimson liquid.

"Orson!"

Talula hurried to his side in panic.

"You've used your Originium Arts too much! And in such a... unreasonable way, too!"

"Ow, ow, ow... so you really can cough up blood from your mouth instead of just having bleeding gums..."

Orson covered his mouth with his uninjured arm and mocked himself.

"Don't talk. I'll—"

"Keep moving first, Talula. That white noise hasn't completely disappeared yet..."

Orson gritted his teeth and got to his feet. Talula carefully supported him with her body as they moved forward.

"Did you go blow up their nest these past couple of days or something...? How did you provoke monsters like that? And two at once... cough, cough!"

"Hang in there, Orson. I'll use my Originium Arts to keep the temperature around us up as much as possible!"

"The Guerrilla Force, the settlement... what about them?"

Orson worried that if the targets were Talula's people, the Guards might turn their attention toward the settlement.

"We can only hope those Guards didn't receive such orders, or that Patriot can make it back—thank goodness, there's a faint light ahead. It looks like a village."

Though the blizzard around them seemed to be getting worse, Talula could barely make out a dim, flickering point of light in the distance.

"Right now, you are the priority, Orson."

As the blizzard became even more violent, Talula could only press closer to Orson, using her body heat to keep him from freezing.

Because of the earlier battle and her reckless actions, Talula's uniform was already somewhat torn. If Orson merely glanced sideways from the corner of his eye while she pressed against him, he could see the unexpectedly plain, simple underwear faintly visible beneath her uniform.

"...Pfft."

"Orson!? You're bleeding again... wait."

Talula noticed blood smeared across her shoulder and looked at Orson in panic. Then she discovered that this time, the blood was spurting from his nostrils, while Orson was maintaining that nosebleed-inducing pose and staring directly at her chest.

"Ah, well, actually, I..."

Crack!

"Awoooooo!!!"

His dislocated arm was fixed.

I Decided to Devote My Life to Big Sis Talula and Brave Any Danger for Her

In an abandoned, unoccupied room in an unnamed frontier village.

"I never thought this outfit would actually have a day when it could serve its intended purpose."

Talula sat by the table, looking at the tattered but still unmistakably "Ursus noble military uniform" on her body with a self-deprecating smile.

"'A noble young lady conducting an inspection of the national border who accidentally fell off a cliff during a blizzard and was left stranded, along with her bodyguard'—I don't know whether the villagers who believed that excuse are more ridiculous, or whether you're more ridiculous for coming up with it, Big Sis Talula..."

Orson lay on the bed nearby and muttered his complaint.

"Thanks to the blizzard outside, it made the story seem much more believable, didn't it? Though because of this blizzard, it will take us longer to reestablish contact with the settlement."

Talula looked toward the window, which was already covered in a layer of ice. Though it was the early hours of the morning, the raging wind and snow made it look as dim outside as an overcast day.

"I just hope FrostNova and the others are okay. Those things feel like the kind of opponents only old man Patriot could trade blows with—cough, cough, cough!"

Orson worried about the settlement while drinking water, then nearly choked and started coughing.

"Be careful. The Originium within an Infected person's body spreads faster when their abilities are overtaxed and activated. If you forcefully use an ability in such an utterly unreasonable way before fully mastering it, the damage to your body will be severe."

Talula gestured for Orson to rest properly. Tuning a "concept" like his own shadow had severely drained both his concentration and physical strength.

"At least I'm still alive to take damage... anyway, what exactly were those things? They looked human, but they felt like something from an entirely different dimension from us."

"Emperor's Blades—they are the Emperor of Ursus's final and strongest force. These people, no different from weapons, serve Ursus unconditionally. Every one of them has experienced countless battles... or rather, massacres. The number of people who have died by their hands is beyond anything ordinary people can comprehend."

Talula quietly explained this ominous existence, which seemed more like an unreal ghost story to most Ursus residents.

Recalling the brief yet suffocating confrontation with the Emperor's Guard, Orson still broke out in a cold sweat. Those things had effortlessly killed an entire team of Infected and a search party. He did not even have the ability to face them head-on.

But only for now...

Orson clenched his fist and began considering how he could become stronger.

"Come to think of it, Talula, you rarely deliberately take the lives of Enforcement Team members or other enemies. Is it because you're afraid of escalating the conflict?"

During the time he had followed Talula, Orson had encountered the Enforcement Team more or less. Though casualties occasionally occurred, Talula usually just used force to drive them away. That was vastly different from the "tyrant" Talula of the future.

"In part, yes. Being too aggressive in Ursus will only draw the army corps here, and then no one will survive. But on the other hand... someone once told me that violence is not a medicine that can solve every problem. Instead, violence makes its user develop a dependence that is difficult to sever. If I kill ordinary people whose deaths could have been avoided, that will be the moment I completely abandon my original heart. By then... perhaps I will never be able to turn back."

Talula spoke softly.

What Talula hoped for was "a world where the people of this land could coexist with the Infected." She believed that everyone possessed kindness, and that evil deeds were caused by pressure from their environment. As long as she could change this land, people would no longer have conflict or violence.

"Was the person who told you all that Alina?"

Orson curiously asked whether Talula's ideas had come from Alina.

"...It's time I told you about her."

After a brief hesitation, Talula made up her mind and told Orson everything about her experiences, conversations, and feelings with that "unknown dearest friend."

"Alina was not only my dearest friend. She was also the beginning of everything I have done. If I was the initiator of the Guerrilla Force, then Alina was one of the equally important initiators who had been by my side from the very beginning. And most importantly, she was once my 'insurance.' I firmly believed that as long as Alina remained by my side, that black snake's curse would never take effect."

Talula looked at her palm. The sensation she had felt when piercing that black snake still clung to her like a curse.

"You once asked me what that 'noise' was, didn't you? It is the person I hate most—the person who tried to raise me into a hypocritical noble, a schemer, an executioner, a tyrant; the person who used lies and grand ideals to cover up atrocities—Koschei. Even after death, he still lingers like a ghost, placing his curse upon me."

Talula clenched her fist. No matter what, the fury she felt toward that black snake could not be erased.

"His curse, that 'noise,' will constantly wear down and influence my will until I begin to doubt and question myself, then devour me entirely. At first, I dismissed the curse with contempt. I believed my efforts would bear fruit. I believed that, through the independent will and methods of the individual called 'Talula,' I could leave something behind on this land."

Talula fell silent here. She looked out at the blizzard beyond the window, still unable to see the road ahead.

"But then you started to realize that your efforts were as unrealistic as pouring hot water outside in the hope of making spring arrive faster, Talula?"

Orson voiced the words Talula had been unable to say, and Talula did not refute the comparison.

"Just like that, I gradually realized that I had changed nothing at all—no, my view of this land was changing. The Alina of the past would have told me what I should persist in, what I should believe in. But after she fell unconscious, all I could do was pour out meaningless hot water, flames, and blood, then watch them disappear into the frozen plains."

Talula's expression was lonely and helpless. There was no one here before whom she needed to pretend to be a fighter, so this young Draco revealed all her vulnerability and anxiety.

"At first, I wanted to gather warriors around the belief of changing this land and changing the fate of the Infected, letting those who followed me struggle and fight through their own will. But Patriot told me it wouldn't work."

"At first, I wanted to lead the Infected south, because there was land where green shoots could grow and slopes where golden sunlight could be seen. But FrostNova told me it wouldn't work."

"At first, I wanted to tell the Infected living in temporary patchwork villages that this land should not be so cruel, that the Infected could pursue their own future. But those Infected told me it wouldn't work."

"At first... what was it that I wanted to pursue in the beginning? I can't remember, and I don't think that memory has any meaning. I don't dare face Alina again, because I'm afraid that black snake has already taken me over, that I have already unknowingly turned away from my original self—if that is true, would she still comfort me? Would she be completely disappointed in me? Would she regret following me away from her village? Would she... think that everything someone like me has done is completely meaningless?"

Talula's voice had begun to tremble. Those tiny "doubts" had accumulated over countless days and nights before burying themselves deep within Talula's heart. Like another kind of curse, those doubts had even robbed her of the courage to find Alina again.

"Whether you believe she will embrace you or mock you depends on what you truly think inside, Talula. But if you want an answer, there's only one way, isn't there? Since you no longer know what to do next, that's exactly why you should go find Alina. At the end of the day, I'm just a useless teacher who makes up stories. Something as difficult as counseling the heart should be left to someone more professional."

Orson climbed out of bed. Enduring the pain in his chest as if it had been punched through, he looked at Talula and spoke sincerely.

"And no matter what you choose, I will believe in you. It has nothing to do with political aspirations or grand goals. I simply trust you, Talula."

"—Why, Orson?"

Orson's utterly sincere trust made Talula waver.

"Because you saved me. You pulled me out of that hell, out of that pile of corpses. You saved the person I was then."

Without hesitation, Orson answered Talula's question directly. Talula smiled when she heard his answer.

That was right. It was different from her goals and political ideals. The young man before her followed her simply because "Talula" existed, just like Alina had.

Perhaps that was one of the most precious things she had gained.

Looking at Orson before her, Talula finally understood why this boy was also someone special to her—

Those Unworthy of Salvation, Those Who Did Not Want to Die

"Actually, you weren't the only one who was saved, Orson. Perhaps I was one of the people who was saved too."