Being Picked Up and Adopted by Talula

"Those who insult the former Emperor shall have their mouths and noses severed before being executed."

"Now, Talula, use your Originium Arts on them!"

BOOM!!!

The Inner Guard was enraged by Orson's words. Just as he was about to attack, Orson suddenly dodged to the side, and explosive flames that stung the eyes surged forth from in front of Talula.

Not only that…

—Crescendo—

Orson raised the pitch of the [Flame] itself. The original orange-red heat instantly turned blue-white, melting away all the ice that had been frozen for a hundred years in the surroundings.

It wasn't over yet. Although the Inner Guard in front of them had been momentarily incapacitated by the sudden attack from Talula and Orson, a second Inner Guard, who had been hidden in the surrounding blizzard since the beginning, also launched an offensive simultaneously.

"Soul Tuning—Staccato!"

Orson raised his hand and aimed at the charging Inner Guard, forcefully disrupting the opponent's white musical score.

"—!"

Unlike the unfortunate member of the Enforcement Team who had completely collapsed and lost his senses earlier, this Inner Guard's mental defenses were incredibly thick. The [Staccato], aimed at "complete destruction," only caused the opponent to pause momentarily.

But that brief opening was enough. With both Inner Guards temporarily deprived of their ability to act in different ways, Orson immediately grabbed Talula's arm and unhesitatingly pulled her towards the cliff by the roadside.

Several spear thrusts and slashes suddenly appeared behind them. As the two Inner Guards recovered their senses, they immediately pursued them.

"Hold on tight, Talula!"

Orson knew very well that they couldn't contend with those things. Patriot might be able to, but Patriot wasn't Cao Cao.

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

Without hesitation, Orson pulled Talula and jumped off the cliff. At the same time, he drew the longsword from Talula's waist with his other hand.

—Crescendo, High Register—

Orson applied a melody that increased the temperature and strength to the greatsword, then gritted his teeth and forcefully plunged it into the cliff face of the ice-covered cliff.

"Guh—Aaaah!"

It wasn't like what he had imagined. Although the greatsword, enhanced by the melody, could indeed embed itself into the cliff to slow their descent, Orson had overestimated his own physical condition.

With their combined weight and the speed of their fall, the moment Orson plunged the greatsword into the cliff, his arm was dislocated by a tearing pain, causing him to lose his grip on the greatsword.

"—"

Time flowed incredibly slowly in his mind. Orson watched the greatsword drift further away, his brain desperately trying to process the situation.

If this continued, he and Talula would fall straight down. Slowing their descent using the cliff was essential.

What was something that could have its nature easily altered, that he could control effortlessly, and was right beside him without obstruction?

He had finally been saved from the hell of the granary by Talula, how could he… wait, the granary?

Severed corpses, buildings, something splitting apart, dark things, black musical scores—

Damn it, no matter what!!

Orson attempted to tune a "concept" for the first time—his own [Shadow].

Swish—

The black musical score intertwined with Orson's body, followed by the sensation of something being torn apart.

A massive, dark, intangible entity extended from behind Orson. The shadow coiled upwards, wrapping around the greatsword stuck in the cliff, gripping it tightly.

"Prepare for impact, Talula!"

When they were about ten meters from the ground, the greatsword reached its limit. The shadow pulled out Talula's longsword, and the two, their speed reduced, fell directly into countless withered birch trees. The tree trunks provided some cushioning.

"Rua!"

Orson let out an embarrassing sound, landing face-first in the snowdrift, half-buried and looking like a winter meme.

"I didn't expect it to actually work, cough cough!"

Before Orson, who had pulled himself out of the snowdrift, could marvel at his success, he suddenly coughed up scarlet liquid.

"Orson!"

Talula rushed to his side in a panic.

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

"It hurts, it hurts… so this is what it feels like to cough up blood, not just bleed from the gums…"

Orson covered his mouth with his un-dislocated arm and chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Don't talk for now, I'll get you—"

"Let's keep moving, Talula. That white noise hasn't completely disappeared yet…"

Orson gritted his teeth and got up from the ground. Talula carefully leaned against him as they walked forward.

"Did you go blow up their base these past few days… Why did you provoke these monsters, and two of them at once… Cough cough!"

"Hold on, Orson. I'll do my best to maintain the surrounding temperature with my Originium Arts!"

"The partisan groups, the settlement... what about them?"

Orson worried that Talula's people might turn their attention to the settlement.

"We can only hope those internal guards didn't receive such orders, or that Patriot can rush back in time—thank goodness, there's a faint light ahead, it looks like a village."

Although the blizzard around them seemed to be getting worse, Talula could still faintly make out a dim, flickering light in the distance.

"The priority right now is you, Orson."

As the blizzard grew more ferocious, Talula had to stay closer to Orson, using her body heat to protect him from hypothermia.

Due to the previous battle and her frenzied actions, Talula's military uniform was somewhat torn. Orson, pressed close to her, could catch a glimpse from the corner of his eye of her surprisingly simple and unadorned undergarments peeking through the tear on her chest.

"...hic"

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

Talula noticed the sticky blood left on her shoulder. She looked at Orson in panic, only to find that this time, blood was gushing from his nostrils. Orson, maintaining his nosebleed posture, was staring directly at Talula's chest.

"Ah, this, I actually..."

Crack!

"Aaaahhhh!!!"

His dislocated joint was healed.

15. I have decided to dedicate my life to Sister Talula, and I will go through fire and water without hesitation.

In an abandoned room in an unknown border village.

"I never thought this uniform would have a chance to serve its purpose."

Talula sat by the table, looking at her tattered clothes, which were still a "Rhodes Island Ursus Noble Military Uniform," with a hint of self-mockery.

"'A noble lady who fell off a cliff during an expedition to inspect the border situation and is now stranded due to a blizzard, along with her bodyguard'—I don't know who's more ridiculous, the villagers who believed this story, or you, Sister Talula, who came up with it..."

Orson grumbled softly from his position on the bed.

"Thanks to the blizzard outside, this reason seems much more plausible, doesn't it? Although, because of this blizzard, our reunion with the settlement will be delayed."

Talula looked out the window, which was already covered in a layer of ice. Although it was already early morning, the outside looked like a cloudy day due to the fierce blizzard.

"I just hope FrostNova and the others are alright. For that kind of opponent, only old man Patriot can really match them—cough cough cough!"

Orson, worried about the settlement, took a sip of water and almost choked, coughing.

"Be careful. The Originium in an Infected's body will accelerate its spread as their abilities are overloaded and activated. Using abilities so unreasonably, like you just did, can cause severe damage to your body if you haven't fully mastered them and force their use."

Talula motioned for Orson to rest. Her previous act of using her shadow as a "concept" to perform Soul Tuning had severely drained his energy and stamina.

"At least I'm still alive to have my body damaged... Speaking of which, what was that thing? It looked like a person, but it felt like it was from a completely different dimension than us."

"Emperor's Blades—they are the last and most powerful force by the side of the Ursus Emperor. These individuals, no different from weapons, serve Ursus unconditionally. Each one has experienced countless battles... or rather, massacres. The numbers of those who died by their hands are at a level incomprehensible to ordinary people."

Talula explained gently about this ominous existence, which for most Ursus residents was more like an unbelievable ghost story.

Recalling the extremely brief yet suffocating confrontation with the Emperor's internal guards, Orson still felt a cold sweat and lingering fear. That thing had easily killed an entire group of Infected and a search and rescue team, and he didn't even have the ability to face them head-on.

But that was only "temporarily" not the case...

Orson clenched his fist, beginning to contemplate how he could become stronger.

"By the way, Sister Talula, you rarely seem to deliberately take the lives of those Enforcement Team members or other adversaries. Is it because you're afraid of escalating the conflict?"

Having followed Talula for some time, Orson had encountered the Enforcement Team on occasion. While there were occasional casualties, more often than not, Talula would simply drive them away by force. This behavior was vastly different from the "tyrant" Talula that would emerge later.

"To some extent, yes. Being too aggressive in Ursus will only attract the Group Army, and then no one will survive. But on the other hand—someone once told me that violence isn't a cure for everything, but it can create an inseparable dependency in the user. If I kill ordinary people whose deaths could have been avoided, that would be the moment I completely abandon my original intentions. At that point... perhaps I would never be able to turn back."

Talula spoke calmly.

Talula's desired goal was "to allow the people of this continent to coexist with the Infected." She firmly believed that everyone was inherently good, and that evil deeds were the result of external environmental pressures. As long as she could change this continent, there would be no more conflict or violence among people.

"Was it Alina who told you these things?"

Orson asked Talula curiously if these thoughts were imparted by Alina.

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

After a moment of hesitation, Talula made up her mind and shared all her experiences, exchanges, and emotions with this "unknown close friend" with Orson.

"Alina is not only my close friend, but also the beginning of everything I've done. If I am the initiator of the partisan movement, then Alina was one of the equally important initiators who followed me from the very beginning. And the most crucial point is that she was my 'insurance.' I firmly believed that as long as Alina was by my side, the curse of that black snake would never take effect."

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

"You once asked me what that 'Dissonance' was, didn't you? That was the person I hated the most, the one who tried to raise me into a hypocritical noble, a schemer, an executioner, a tyrant—Koschei. The one who cursed me even after death."

Talula clenched her fist, her rage towards that black snake unquenchable.

"His curse, that 'Dissonance,' would constantly erode and influence my will until I began to doubt myself, and then it would consume me entirely. At first, I dismissed this curse. I believed my efforts would be rewarded, and that I could leave something on this continent through my own independent will and methods as 'Talula.'"

Talula fell silent at this point. She looked out at the blizzard, still unable to see the road ahead.

"But Sister Talula, you started to realize that your efforts were like pouring hot water out the door, trying to hasten the arrival of spring—unrealistic?"

Orson finished the sentence Talula couldn't articulate, and Talula didn't refute his analogy.

"Just like that, I gradually realized that I wasn't changing anything at all—no, my view of this continent was changing. The former Alina would tell me what to adhere to, what to believe in. But after she fell into a coma, all I could do was pointlessly spill hot water, fire, and blood, and watch them disappear into the ice fields."

Talula's expression was dejected and helpless. There was no need for her to pretend to be a warrior in this room, so the young Dragon displayed her fragile and anxious side completely.

"At first, I wanted to gather warriors with the belief of changing the continent and the fate of the Infected, letting my followers fight with 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 makeshift villages that this continent shouldn't be so cruel, and that the Infected could also pursue their own futures. But those Infected told me it wouldn't work."

"At first... what was it I was initially pursuing? I can't recall, nor do I feel that memory has any meaning. I don't dare to face Alina again, because I'm afraid that I've actually been occupied by that black snake long ago, that I've actually gone against my original self without realizing it—if that's the case, will she still comfort me? Will she be completely disappointed in me? Will she regret following me and leaving her village back then? Will she... think that everything I've done is meaningless?"

Talula's voice began to tremble. Those small "doubts" had accumulated over countless months, finally burying themselves deep within Talula's heart. Those self-doubts were like another curse, causing Talula to even lose the courage to find Alina again.

"Whether you believe the other person will embrace you or mock you depends entirely on your own inner thoughts, Talula. But if you want to get an answer, don't we only have one way? Since you're no longer clear about what you should do next, you should definitely go find Alina. After all, I'm just a con artist teacher who makes up stories. Guiding such difficult emotional matters should be left to someone more professional."

Orson climbed out of bed. While enduring the pain in his chest as if it had a hole in it, 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 ambitions or grand goals; it's simply trusting you, Talula."

"—Why, Orson?"

Orson's incredibly sincere trust made Talula waver.

"Because you saved me. From that hell, from the piles of the dead, you saved me."

Without hesitation, Orson directly answered Talula's question, and Talula, having received this answer, smiled.

Yes, it was different from her goals or her political ideals. This young man was simply following her because of the existence of "Talula," just like Alina.

Perhaps this was one of her most precious gains.

Looking at Orson before her, Talula finally understood why this young man was also a special existence to her—

16. Those Unworthy of Saving, Those Who Don't Want to Die

"Actually, it wasn't just you who was saved, Orson. Perhaps I was also one of the people who were saved."