Ch.162162. Two Protagonists (3)

Kwaaang-!

The wind created a vortex, and its flow became a sharp blade. Aryen was slashed all over his body and shot high into the sky. I could have driven my sword down to finish him off in that state, but I didn’t. Droplets of blood scattered like a snowstorm. I used just enough magical power to deflect the blood droplets as I watched Aryen fall with his entire body slashed.

Thud.

The sound of his fall wasn’t very loud. He seemed to have lost all his strength, unable to prepare for the landing. I had cut his tendons and severed his ligaments just enough. The blood loss alone would be significant. And just then, the opening time ended precariously. His wings disappeared, and the halo floating above his head no longer remained. I became a mere human and collapsed onto the ground.

“[Ilroy!]”

Pain rushed in all at once. I gasped for breath, then retched and spat out a lump of blood. My heart was pounding erratically like a broken machine. For about 10 seconds, it fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings, then for the next 10 seconds, it was so quiet I thought I might have died. With each alternating symptom, I rolled on the ground, blood trickling from my mouth and nose.

“[Ilroy…! Pull yourself together!]”

The Holy Sword’s mana seeped in faintly. The blood flowing back wasn’t satisfied with just my nose and mouth; it streamed down from under my eyes as well. Pain. No, is this even pain? Just as I was about to lose consciousness in that something that vaguely transcended sensation, the Holy Sword’s magical power flowed strongly into me.

“[Ilroy!]”

I can breathe.

I choked on the violent pressure of air suddenly tearing into my lungs, and finally expelled it. It wasn’t just breath that I expelled. I wiped the bloody fluid flowing down my chin with the back of my hand and leaned against a rock.

“[Are you alright? Are you coming to your senses?]”

“Hurts like… hell.”

“[It’s fortunate you didn’t die, Ilroy. You just reached a truly dangerous threshold.]”

Cold sweat trickled down. It was a blessing that I hadn’t lost consciousness. As much as Aryen was wounded, I had taken damage too. I think the actual loss was probably much greater on my side. I must never show that fact. Reminding myself of this, I tore the cork off a potion I had saved for emergencies with my teeth. The potion’s distinctive sweet scent rose from the bottle.

How nice it would be if these wounds could be healed by drinking just one bottle.

I emptied the entire bottle of potion worth about a thousand gold into my mouth. I know. This potion can neither soothe this pain nor alleviate the symptoms. The reason I was consuming this expensive and precious potion meaninglessly was to gain the strength to somehow stand up through the pain.

“[Ilroy.]”

The Holy Sword was worried about me. She had already warned me enough and nagged me until my ears were calloused. Nevertheless, the Holy Sword was genuinely concerned about me. I used those complex feelings I had for her as fuel to get up. The halo that had reappeared above my head was giving me the strength to move.

“[I…]”

“It’s okay. Let’s go check on him first.”

I said while stroking the crown-shaped engraving on the Holy Sword’s hilt.

Passing through soil, broken trees, and exploded rocks, I looked at Aryen lying on the dirt. Aryen was blinking, looking up at the sky. Judging by his wounds, he seemed unable to force himself up. I pointed the Holy Sword at his neck and asked. Aryen glared at me with eyes still full of hostility.

“Why did you do this?”

“Do I have an obligation to answer that?”

“Who’s behind you?”

“I would have told you the answer to that question long ago, but it seems your memory is lacking.”

It was a foolish question. Whether it was the original Aryen or the Aryen of this world, Aryen Elmione was definitely not someone who would open his mouth to anyone’s interrogation. So, from the beginning, I decided to ask questions that would provoke this guy.

“Where is the real Aryen right now?”

Despite my sword tip slightly digging into his Adam’s apple, the murderous intent in Aryen’s eyes did not subside. No, my question seems to have properly disturbed his composure. That overflowing hostility was beginning to form a shape like an ear of fire.

“Real?”

Rumble rumble.

The ground was shaking slightly. Aryen’s mana was raging and running wild in sync with his emotions. The mana was pressing in, constricting the space as if trying to kill me.

“Did I say real? It seems you can’t distinguish what’s real and what’s fake right now?”

The ground rose. Soil shot up. Did he still have that much strength left?

“[…That’s not the mercenary’s power, Ilroy.]”

Aryen’s whites of his eyes were gradually turning black. A wave was coming. A massive wave that could cover the sun and sky was approaching from the distant horizon.

“You didn’t save the world! Intoxicated by the title of hero, you met your death without discerning what was important. Were you really a hero in that world?”

Crack. Crack. The sound was coming from Aryen’s body, not from the ground.

“I couldn’t stop it. The world being destroyed by something I never even considered. I blamed myself for not questioning the obvious. And I came to correct it by any means necessary. And in the midst of that, real? Are you asking me what’s real?”

Bones were twisting. The wounds weren’t healing. Instead, something dark and murky was seeping out from between those gashes instead of blood. Like a shadow becoming material, such darkness.

“I lament, hero. I hate myself for having to witness the end of the world, and I hate myself for being powerless at that end. So…”

Another ‘something’ overlapped with Aryen’s voice.

“This time, I will meet a different ending.”

Shiver.

I stepped back at the eerie sensation creeping up my spine.

“[Ilroy!!]”

The Holy Sword called me urgently.

“[You must not be devoured by that…!]”

The Holy Sword’s voice grew distant. Should I spread my wings? No, my heart won’t listen. There’s no way to escape, no strength. My vision, no, the world was turning black. From the horizon visible beyond the flatly cut mountain, the world was being buried in darkness as if being eaten away.

“So, first I need to take you, who’s most in the way.”

Whoosh-!

More than half the sky was covered and the sun was obscured. The world was disappearing into darkness. And when the opposite horizon was submerged in pitch-black darkness,

I opened my eyes again in a somehow familiar sensation. It was pitch black. And although I was moving with my body, the sensation of my physical form wasn’t clearly felt. I tried rubbing my hands and then tried to raise mana.

“…As expected.”

The mana didn’t rise. I’m not dead. This space, this sensation. It was like the mental world. I frowned and looked around. There wasn’t much to look around at. This world was just a space submerged in endless darkness. There was no up, down, left, or right. An ordinary person would go mad the moment they opened their eyes in this space.

“Holy Sword.”

No voice came back. Blocked? So it’s not the same mental space? I can’t see my hands and feet. Only by the rustling sound could I guess that I was wearing clothes. Where should I go? Does it make sense to move? I stared into the darkness, repeatedly closing and opening my eyes.

Is it trying to keep me here forever?

I frowned. I couldn’t understand the situation. Where did the entity that imprisoned me go? Aryen? As questions began to pile up one by one, someone walked toward me, step by step. My vision was gradually returning. And I could see the figure standing at the edge of the darkness.

“There you are.”

Aryen. The mercenary with jet-black hair was slowly approaching me. I faced him with wide eyes.

“Why such a surprised expression, hero.”

There was no hostility felt. He was just standing there. I hesitantly pointed at him with my finger.

“You…”

“I’m the ‘real’ one. To borrow your expression.”

Aryen gave a hollow laugh as if he had been listening to everything. He seemed somewhat deflated, like someone who had been beaten up somewhere. I broke the awkward silence and spoke first.

“What is this place? It’s similar to a mental space, but also seems different somehow.”

“Your guess isn’t wrong. This is definitely a space where mental images drift. Beyond that, I don’t know. I too suddenly found myself wandering here when I came to my senses. I don’t know how much time has passed.”

Aryen shrugged his shoulders.

“It seems to be both reality and not reality. I don’t know more than that either.”

“What happened?”

Aryen sighed and looked at me. He seemed to be choosing his words.

“As you might have heard, I was attacked by black fog at the cultists’ base. It was an entity, an attack, that was beyond comprehension for me, or rather, for anyone there.”

“By attack, do you mean what you took in place of Bishop Andre?”

“…It’s embarrassing to say I took it in his place. I was thinking of repaying a debt I carried in my heart. The result changed to something far more disastrous than simply taking the hit for him.”

Aryen shook his head with a hollow laugh.

“…If you hadn’t taken the hit, it would have resulted in the bishop himself massacring his subordinates.”

“Then I could have somehow stopped the bishop. Hero, I don’t need your half-hearted consolation.”

“No one could have predicted such an outcome.”

“Hero…, that doesn’t suit you. As I said, I don’t need consolation. I didn’t act that way seeking your approval or sympathy. The same goes for when I headed to Barktins when the comet fell. I’ve always done what I thought I should do. Others can never intervene in that decision.”

His voice was firm.

“So, all of this is what I brought upon myself as me. You should think of it that way. The people who died, and you ending up in this state.”

“Easy for you to say.”

His attitude suddenly seemed like that of a gentle lamb. I slightly frowned, unable to adapt to it.

“So, what is the entity that devoured your body?”

“…According to the black fog, it was ‘what was once the protagonist.’ Probably not just one of those like me entered my body.”

It felt like a stone dropping in my heart, but I nodded, trying not to show it. It really was the protagonist of the original work. How? I felt like I wanted to clutch my confused head.

Whether it was an evil god or a good god, weren’t they all beings belonging to that original work? Then, what is this world, and I…

“…This doesn’t seem like the time to be chatting so amicably.”

At Aryen’s words, I turned my head. Something else was standing at the edge of the darkness. I forcibly cut off the thoughts that were about to continue. The presence emitted by that something was ominous.

“It looks quite creepy seeing it like this.”

“Only the appearance is the same.”

“That’s because appearance is everything.”

Aryen. It seems to be from the original protagonist’s side. It seemed to have lost its reason already. Emitting black malice from its eyes, it stood facing us.

“The side you should be standing on is not there…”

The distorted Aryen said. I frowned, and Aryen snorted as if finding it amusing. He seemed to think it wasn’t worth responding to.

“We’ll need to cooperate to catch that thing.”

Aryen spoke first. When I looked at him with a surprised expression, Aryen also frowned.

“You still can’t grasp the situation well, can you?”

“Let’s speak more politely.”

Your tongue is still as sharp as ever. I shook my head. Somehow a sword was now in Aryen’s hand, and a sword was also in mine.

“Can you keep up?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Aryen took the first step, and I moved my body to match him.