Chapter 148
Everything is over.
Remus, the prosperity of Ys is ultimately gone...
On the cruciform mast, Mozart suddenly let out a desolate laugh.
The servants who were stabbing him were delighted: Mozart was finally making some unusual moves.
"Hey, what are you laughing at?!" the servants ordered the Grand Harmonizer with an air of superiority.
They certainly had reason to do so, because in Mozart's previous purges, large numbers of nobles, musicians, and tyrants were killed, and those who survived were stripped of their rations of nectar.
They had completely lost even the slightest reverence for the deceased Ys. With the blessing of the Grand Symphony, even a former servant could easily snap a Tuners's neck at this moment.
They even began to force Mozart to point out Remus's incompetence in order to demonstrate the wisdom of the new ruler Caligula.
These servants were trying to win Caligula's favor in this way.
"Remus has only one flaw."
Mozart's pale, thin, and compassionate face twitched, and his brows seemed to be twisted like a noose.
"That's why he made someone as weak, incompetent, stupid, and ignorant as me Grand Harmonizer..."
He looked at the group of bewildered servants and sneered repeatedly.
"I failed to kill you all sooner, so this ending is what I deserve, without a doubt."
The servants, realizing what had happened, flew into a rage and raised their spears, stabbing Mozart repeatedly in the chest.
Normally, doing this would have drawn condemnation and reprimands from Caligula and others, but not this time.
The servants turned around and saw Caligula staring at them with a gloomy face.
The same is true for those victors who sit in high-backed chairs.
Yes, Mozart wasn't attacking the servants, but speaking to the so-called "victors."
He didn't even want to glance at these lackeys and servants.
It was only after hearing Mozart's reply that Caligula realized he could no longer subdue this "last Grand Harmonizer."
As the new king descended the long steps, he even had the illusion that there was still a lingering stain of blood on them.
Caligula walked to the foot of the tall, cross-shaped mast.
He disliked looking up at people, so he ordered his servants to knock him down, and then took the executioner's sword from one of the servants.
Caligula stared coldly at Mozart: "Do you have any last words?"
Mozart closed his eyes.
Strangely enough, at this moment, he didn't think of Remus, Marie, or the now unrecognizable Grand Symphony.
He remembered those calm, melancholy, and vast deep green eyes.
A word suddenly popped into his mind.
"History".
The Atlantis didn't study history, but at this moment, Mozart thought it would be a good thing if all of this could be recorded.
In this way, future generations will inherit their will, know the immense enemy they will face, and understand the means necessary to overcome the approaching chaos and darkness...
Mozart opened his eyes and shouted with all his might:
See you in history, Caligula! We'll meet in history!
The new king, his face grim, swung his greatsword in a rage.
Mozart's chest was split in two.
This Grand Harmonizer, who devoted himself to Ys, also died in Ys in the end.
His head flew off, rolled twice on the ground, and splattered a pool of dark, thin blood.
A hand suddenly appeared and picked up his head.
There is a rumor that a person can retain neural activity for a period of time after being beheaded. The Gaul chemist Lavoisier proved this to be true.
Mozart could no longer see anything, and in the last brief moment before he died, he could not sense who picked him up.
He just murmured as if he wanted to say something... but even he himself didn't know what he could say.
Hebe held his head and nodded slightly. "Okay, I'll do it."
She read a sentence from Mozart's lips: Who will save this country?
Hebe's answer was: I'll do it.
On the palm of the Pure Water Spirit, the head that had been glaring angrily finally lowered its eyes.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the Grand Harmonizer known as "Orchid" and the last "wise man" of Parliament, is dead.
In just a few short seconds, Caligula had already retreated to a safe distance, protected by his spear-wielding attendants.
Holding a decapitation sword, he watched with apprehension as Hebe suddenly appeared, carrying Mozart's head.
Caligula had only been in power for a short time and was already showing signs of becoming a tyrant, but at least he hadn't become a tyrant yet... No matter how stunning and eye-catching Hebe was, Caligula could tell that she was no ordinary person.
A musician? A philosopher? Or perhaps...?
But Hebe didn't move; she just stood there, a slight smile playing on her lips.
"Fool," Caligula heard Hebe say.
Mozart was the twilight of a musician's career, and even if his achievements are stripped away and placed deep within his Grand Symphony, he was still in his twilight.
Even the most mediocre twilight, when they die, will trigger an abnormal phenomenon large enough to cover the entire area.
The path of the musicians was once subordinate to the "Wing" principle, but in Hebe's time, it became subordinate to the "Winter" principle.
Just as the Sage Path shifted from the principle of "lamp" to the principle of "cup," and was renamed "Magecraft."
Hebe didn't know whether Mozart was the twilight under the Principle of the Wing or the twilight under the Winter's Tenets, but she soon learned the answer:
With a whoosh, a whoosh—like leaves rustling in the wind— Mozart's body, lying on the ground, suddenly swelled up as if inflated by the wind, making a rumbling sound. This sound continued for seven times, each one more violent than the last, starting as a heartbeat and eventually turning into thunder.
Seven hills rose from the ground, like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, causing the earth to tremble and grow taller.
Seven hills grew outwards from the inside, raising the entire Ys City by nearly a hundred meters. Clear spring water gurgled down from the mountains, and dense forests covered the land in an instant. The howling wind shook the mountains and forests, and two white-feathered birds flew out from the last remaining remains of Mozart.
The two birds circled in the air, emitting mournful cries like the trembling of a piano, before disappearing into the forest.
Immediately, countless birds resembling them flew out of the forest—red beaks, white feathers, yellow claws, and long tails, their calls as clear and crisp as piano keys.
Some of them flew back into the forest, some flew to distant places to live, and some disappeared into the clouds, never to be seen again.
The head in Hebe's hand fell to the ground, and moments later, a pool of clear water sprouted at her feet. The water was so clear that Hebe's eyebrows and eyes could be seen, and when she bent down to gaze at it, the surface of the water gurgled and rose, as if greeting her.
A new Pure Water Spirit.
Pure Water Spirit can only be born in water systems that have not yet been polluted.
Of course, there is another reason, which is that Hebe here—the image of Pure Water Spirit —influenced the phenomena produced by Mozart's final remains.
Mozart was indeed a twilight figure under the Principle of the Wing, but his heart, during the long wait, had already turned to the Winter's Tenets.
Hebe twitched the corner of her mouth and looked around.
Mozart was nowhere to be seen, nor was the arrogant Caligula, nor the servants wielding spears and swords around him.
Even the entire Ys City disappeared in the process of the rise of the Seven Hills.
It seems that the previous scene was nothing more than an unrealistic illusion.
This is why Hebe previously called Caligula and others "idiots".
Caligula, relying on the purple robe Remus had previously worn, tried his best to imitate the latter's autocratic kingly image before he became the Philosopher King, which was indeed feasible. But to suppress a Twilight Lord was completely impossible. If it weren't for Sybil's underhanded tactics, even ten Caligula would be easily dealt with by Mozart.
Just like in the Rose War, when Hebe easily killed two rebellious Lord of the day, destroying the image that her Royal Sister had painstakingly created.
When Mozart himself was filled with hatred, the imagery that erupted at the moment of his death swept away all the rebels in an instant, turning them into earth and stone, assimilated into forests, or transformed into beasts in the mountains... At this moment, all the kingly demeanor, the secrets of musicians, and the speculations of philosophers became a joke under the absolute suppression of status.
Hebe stepped forward.
There was no path in the dense forest, yet a path appeared wherever she walked.
Sunlight forced through the forest, revealing the mostly collapsed Ys City. The once towering walls were gone, but the stone circular terrace remained intact beneath the swaying Golden Tree.
In front of the only remaining high-backed chair stood a philosopher with a straight nose and deep-set eyes.
Nietzsche.
He slowly turned around.
"This should be our first meeting, Ms. Ismara," the philosopher said with a slight bow, "But I have long admired you."
"I thought it would be Sybil coming to see me." Hebe took the Cross Sword hanging from his waist, and with a flick of his wrist, it turned back into a wooden stick.
"It's a pity. The Prophetess Sibyl has now transformed into the Grand Symphony, existing as the foundation of Atlantis." Nietzsche shook his head. "It's simple if you want to see her; just go behind that door and you can enter Pavielon."
His hand pointed to the wooden throne and the steps leading up to it.
—At the end of the steps, a faintly glowing circular doorway is visible.
"You seem to be able to answer any question."
Nietzsche smiled slightly, "I am me, yet I am not me."
"I suppose you haven't forgotten Ashiya Dōman. Am I exactly the same as him?" the philosopher said. "Of course, I don't deny that we do have some things in common... but you probably have some misunderstandings about us. In fact, Sybil and I are not exactly the same either."
Hebe gave a weak, unsatisfying smirk. "So, you want to beg me for mercy in order to save your life?"
Nietzsche laughed heartily, "No. I have already declared the name of my philosophy."
The philosophical debate has already begun!
Like Ashiya Dōman, he was determined to kill Hebe by any means necessary—right here, right now.
"The Uncrowned King," Hebe replied coldly.
The last two philosophers of Issu began their final debate.
225 Those are all good points, but I don't like them.
Nietzsche gazed at Hebe.
What kind of person is he? he wondered.
High Priest who draws the line between humans, kings, and gods? No, that's not her nature.
A fox spirit who uses sacrifice as a bargaining chip to reconcile humanity with wild beasts? Somewhat close, but not entirely.
In Atlantis, she descended many times, experiencing fate repeatedly as Wise King Gilgamesh, musician, philosopher, and knight... It is for this reason that Eris was able to make Joan of Arc feel conflicted and uncertain.
Hebe was a sword, a pen. She forged only the path of truth, and wrote only the words of truth. Her clear mind was the blade of her sword, and the ink she used to write history.
That's why, when she's anxious and uncertain, the blade becomes dull and the ink fades.
Nietzsche was convinced that he had done the right thing, because Hebe was indeed almost slow to react and nearly lost.
But Hebe did not continue to be anxious about gains and losses.
Didn't she enjoy this tug-of-war? Didn't she like this relationship? She should have seen another side of herself in Joan of Arc of Arc and hesitated over it.
But no.
She maintained this terrifying and chilling clarity, detaching herself as if writing words on paper, or leaving wounds on the body with a sword.
"This is a truly formidable enemy; nothing can stop her from achieving her goals."
Nietzsche couldn't help but feel Ashiya Dōman; how could he possibly defeat him?
Fortunately, "defeating and killing Hebe" was merely Nietzsche's apparent intention. Killing her would be ideal, but if that wasn't possible, preventing her from achieving her goal would also be acceptable.
If even that cannot be achieved, then let's settle for second best—have her ring the Bell of Ys to announce the end of Atlantis.
In this respect, these three goals are mutually exclusive and can be described as going in opposite directions.
Who could have imagined that Eris was aiming for the last one from the very beginning?
However, if we think of Eris as a gambler who is waiting in the gacha pool to pull cards, it becomes easy to understand: instead of pulling from a high-value pool with no pity system, it is better to invest limited resources in a pool with a pity system.
Hebe might win, but Eris won't lose!