Chapter 40

123

"You damned devil!!"

The man with faded red hair lay on the ground, most of his body pinned beneath the rubble, yet he still forced himself to spit a mouthful of bloody froth at the Abyss Angel, his expression twisted with rage. Dust and blood covered his face, along with several deep scars. The arrogance and abandon of his youth had long since vanished, leaving only an aged visage painstakingly sculpted by time, hatred, and decades of suffering. Even if Roselle saw him again, he would never have connected this face with the man he had hated with a vengeance in his twenties.

Besides, it had been a long time since Roselle had bothered to look down at the Sauron Family he had trampled, crushed, and ground into the dust.

"Hello, Florent. It's good to see you alive."

Edward greeted him calmly and crouched down, the hem of his formal attire settling into the blood on the ground.

"The last time I saw you was in that basement where you were plotting the assassination. Roselle is dead. Your lifelong wish should finally be fulfilled."

Though he had endured suffering and slaughter, his status plummeting from royalty to an ordinary noble barely clinging to survival, the elderly Florent seemed to have retained a few habits from his youth. After all, some arrogance and dignity were etched so deeply into the blood that only death could erase them. His Highness Florent Sauron struggled to draw a few breaths. Several steel reinforcing bars had pierced his lungs, and living itself had become agony. Merely breathing subjected him to the greatest torture in the world.

"Damned devil..."

He coughed blood as he spoke, his face bearing a crazed expression that might have been sorrow or joy. "Roselle is dead. Roselle is finally dead! Damn my lack of strength, or I'd send you to hell too! I'd make you regret ever looking down on me. Damn it, my sister couldn't even die for our family and honor, and because of her, you passed me over and tore my other relatives apart before my eyes! Damn you, damn you!!"

Edward took no offense at any of this. Instead, he nodded with a hint of appreciation. "After soaking in the blood of hatred for so long, I think you have considerable potential to become a devil yourself."

"Ha, ha, ha!" In the space of a few breaths, all color had drained from Florent's face. He hovered on the boundary between life and death. The extra vitality granted by Sequence 4 would probably let him go on living indefinitely in this agonized state and aged form. "I'd rather die than serve you! Tell me! My poor sister-what exactly did she give you in exchange for my life?!"

"Her soul? Damn her, she dared to sell her soul to a devil!"

"Then I'll trade my soul for hers!"

The Abyss Angel paused in mild surprise.

"You're mistaken, Florent. Adela never pleaded for anyone, including you and herself."

"She was very fond of you."

"So I thought keeping you alive would make her a little happier."

The madness filling Florent's green eyes briefly gave way to a blank stare, but only for an instant before he became hysterical again.

"You murdered our father and mother, slaughtered our brothers and sisters, took hundreds of lives from the Sauron Family, and you actually thought Adela would be happy if you spared me alone!" Florent had lost all control over his expression. "You have no human heart at all! Everything you do is sickening, you lowly, despicable devil wearing human skin!"

Edward nodded in wholehearted agreement. "I think so too. But I must correct one thing: I don't think the Sauron Family's two hundred and thirty-seven lives meet the minimum threshold for a massacre. At the very least, that should be what happened against the combined Loen and Lenburg forces in the Amanda Mountains campaign."

Florent spat out a mouthful of blood in fury, sinking even closer to death.

He should have known long ago that a devil could not be judged by human ways of thinking, but he could not possibly control the resentment and rage pent up within him.

Just then, Edward raised his head and glanced toward a spot in the collapsed palace, calling in his usual voice, "Traynor?"

"...It's me, Father."

A tall, straight-backed figure emerged from around a corner. His satin hair ribbon was nowhere to be seen, and his reddish-brown hair hung disheveled down his back like dried blood. Several tears marred his elaborate formal attire, and his lace cuffs had been ripped to shreds. Dust clung to him as well, leaving him looking thoroughly bedraggled.

"Heh." Florent lifted his eyelids, looked at this young man who shared his blood, and spat. "Disgusting devil's spawn."

Traynor Vaughn kept his eyes lowered, unmoved by the insult, and spoke evenly. "Father, I left the group without permission to escort Ciel Gustav to safety, but I failed. The Church of Steam and Machinery captured him. However, I heard they failed to catch Bernadette Gustav."

"Roselle is dead. They must all think his legacy is in the hands of his two children." Edward paid it little mind and glanced at Florent. "Now they're remnants of a fallen dynasty, just like you. Does that make you happy?"

A rattling, scornful laugh escaped the former Earl Sauron's throat.

Then Florent closed his eyes. His weathered face, no longer handsome, finally revealed profound exhaustion and relief. He looked as though his wish had been fulfilled, with no desire left to struggle, and his life was nearing its end. Edward stopped paying attention to him, leaving him to quietly bleed out and breathe his last amid the ruins. Traynor glanced at the place where his uncle had died, a flicker of grief crossing his eyes, but he still chose to follow Edward.

"I'm leaving Intis."

"Where will you go next?"

"I don't have any particular plans. It would be too easy to be discovered if I went to another country now. Perhaps I'll head to the Southern Continent and visit the ruins of the Balam Empire, then settle in Loen or Feysac in a few decades."

At this, Edward abruptly stopped and glanced back at Traynor. The latter started, suddenly feeling as though some hidden mystical connection had been seized, exposing everything from his soul to his internal organs.

"...You should stay in Intis," his father said thoughtfully. "For a long time after today, your fate will remain here. I won't take you with me. The world will continue to be turbulent. Staying in Intis, at the heart of the wars, is the most promising course for you."

"You don't need to follow me anymore. You're free, Traynor. Live according to your own wishes."

With that, the angel never looked at him again. He stepped into the Spirit World and vanished directly before Traynor's eyes, giving him no chance to ask questions or persuade him to stay. Traynor did not seem inclined to speak either. He stood there for two seconds and looked around. Seeing no one nearby, and that the medical teams searching for the wounded and dead had yet to reach this place, he immediately turned and ran back to the rubble. He heaved aside fallen masonry and sections of the vaulted ceiling, broke through reinforcing bars and concrete, and, after considerable effort, dragged Florent out of the ruins.

The Beyonder characteristic had already begun to emerge. Traynor put it away, carefully laid Florent to one side, then found a clean step to sit on.

The viscount, not yet forty, suddenly felt that his life had lost its direction, though some longing for freedom and trepidation still lingered deep within him. Intis had already been reduced to such a wreck. What would happen next?

Then a Spirit World exit abruptly opened before him, interrupting his wandering thoughts. The blast of heat pouring through it scorched Traynor so fiercely that he could not open his eyes. Edward stepped out, his coat and half his trouser legs gone, the ends of his hair singed into curls. He calmly brushed the ash from his body and looked at Traynor as though nothing had happened.

"A miscalculation. I forgot I'd just eaten an angel of the Eternal Blazing Sun."

Edward even offered an explanation for his disheveled state. He paid no attention to the fact that Traynor had dragged Florent out, as though he had not seen the corpse lying at his feet. Facing his dumbstruck son, he asked, "Adela's funeral is tomorrow, isn't it?"

Traynor nodded.

At that, Edward raised his right hand and spread his fingers, then lightly drew his left index finger across his ring finger-the entire right ring finger was severed. He withdrew the spirituality within it, turning it into an ordinary finger. Near its base sat a ring set with tiny white diamonds and a ruby. The stump regenerated, growing a new finger.

"Take it. Put it in Adela's coffin."

A neat ring of scar tissue encircled the base of the newly grown ring finger. Edward tossed the severed finger bearing his wedding ring to Traynor, then opened another whirlpool-like doorway and stepped into the pitch-black world beyond.

Holding the severed finger, Traynor took a long while before sighing. He hoisted Florent's now-cold body onto his back and walked steadily toward the medical team.

124

Two months later, at the port of a city in Loen.

A passenger ship bound for the Southern Continent was about to leave port. It was filled with sons who could not inherit their families' property, merchants dreaming of riches, and pirates hoping to conceal their identities and leave their old lives behind, all ready to make their mark in Balam. They dreamed of becoming plantation owners, managing vast holdings that included slaves, or joining comprador trading companies in pursuit of power and wealth. In short, the Southern Continent was a fine destination now, and a ship ticket was nearly impossible to obtain, even for a fortune. The natives there were docile and easily tamed, suitable for purchase as servants. With relations between the Northern Continent's nations tangled and another war seemingly on the verge of erupting, it had become the ideal destination for those seeking stability.

Among these passengers, who lacked refinement and were somewhat vulgar, one man stood apart. He dressed neatly and spoke elegantly, combining Loen's composure with Intis's easygoing warmth. He spent lavishly and treated women with courtesy and reserve, so everyone naturally took him for a noble fallen on hard times, sparking a few small circles of discussion. Unfortunately, he often stayed in his private cabin and appeared only at banquets.

The voyage would last forty-two days. Its route passed several islands in the Sonia Sea, with brief stops at designated ports to replenish supplies.

While the galley bustled with preparations for the evening's banquet, some crew members and servants went ashore to buy newspapers at their employers' request. Newspapers had originated in Intis, and the speed at which they circulated information had prompted every nation to establish newspaper offices. As a result, people could learn the "latest" news from other countries after a little over a month.

The Emperor Intis Roselle Gustav had died, assassinated jointly by the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun and the former royal Sauron Family. Many nobles had been attacked and killed during the coup, dealing a severe blow to the aristocracy... More than half the government officials had been lost. Several major figures, most notably Edward Vaughan, the Palace Earl and Minister of Military and Government Affairs, were missing or dead, leaving the government administration almost paralyzed... The Sauron Family was attempting to win over various factions to restore its rule, but had little to offer and had yet to receive any definite support. These sensational headlines earned the newspapers a handsome profit.

Passengers held their fresh newspapers and enthusiastically debated the international situation, nearly turning the pre-dinner ball into the Hall of State. The door of one first-class cabin remained tightly shut. Within, the Abyss Angel, already dead in the annals of mundane history, sat beside the bay window, quietly gazing at the sea's horizon in the sunset.

After a moment, he took a small notebook from inside his clothes and turned to a particular page. It was filled with Intisian writing, untidy yet elegant and bold, laying out their future travel plans across two expansive pages.

Following the travel plans was his own handwriting, listing in Intisian the places mentioned in the itinerary, such as "inside the Twilight Giant Palace," "the ruins of the Balam Empire's imperial mausoleums," "the ruins of the Highland Kingdom," and "the bay on Pasu Island," among many others. Quite a few were areas officially forbidden to visitors, showing just how much faith the person who had made these plans placed in Edward's power.

Edward held his quill in silence for a few seconds, then slowly placed a check mark beside "the ruins of the Balam Empire's imperial mausoleums."

TBC

That wraps up a small climax. The next chapter returns to the main story's timeline.

But considering the word count, a contract is still a distant prospect, so I'll have to buy some time with fragmentary diary entries and supplementary lore.

*I saw a reader asking what agreement Decay and the Genie had, so I'll answer that here.

The "conversation no one knew about" at the beginning of an earlier chapter was actually between Decay and the Genie. Their deal was this: Decay would help the Genie assume the identity of a High Sequence Beyonder from one of the two order pathways, allowing him to escape the Celestial Worthy's control to some extent and influence both pathways in preparation for leaving Earth. The Genie would help Decay find clues to his sefirah. When they struck this deal, their targets were actually the royal families of Loen or Feynapotter. But Roselle suddenly skipped sequences and became half a Black Emperor, naturally making him the best target.

You all know what happened next. Roselle shone brilliantly as the Black Emperor, and Decay found him fascinating. He became so absorbed in watching the movie that he forgot his agreement with the Genie and failed to act before Roselle's death. Once Roselle died and became trapped in his mausoleum by intense corruption, the Genie was unwilling to accept an identity tainted by the Mother Goddess either. In the end, the meal that had been right at the Genie's lips flew away, and Decay failed to obtain clues to his own sefirah. Relations between the two Great Old Ones are now strained, but the Genie cannot truly break with Decay. (Genie: Monarch of Decay, fuck your mother.) So you really must keep work and hobbies separate.