Ch.225Report on the Collapse of Patience (18)

The noise became a roar, the wingbeats a gale.

What had seemed impossibly distant drew closer, growing large enough to feel threatening, and then so close that one might wonder if it was coming too near. Yet its speed did not diminish, and finally—ah. That thing is going to crash into me.

A dizzying realization ran down my spine like an electric current.

This cannot be avoided. I will be crushed. I will be erased from the world without a trace by that ship falling from the sky.

Yet that would be better.

Better to be flattened by that ship hurtling straight down with its bow pointed earthward in the middle of the storm. Better than those angels circling around the ship.

At least not that six-headed angel. No, not six heads above the neck. One above the neck, one each on the chest, stomach, and genitals, and one on each knee.

I see a bat flying toward me, flapping open human skin like wings.

I see a goat standing on a four-legged human, brandishing a sword and bellowing commands with eagle’s wings.

Without wings yet falling, the armor that writhes with life is filled only with eyeballs.

And a lion charges from sky to earth. Its jaws open not up and down but side to side, splitting from the roof of its mouth down to its lower abdomen as it falls with gaping maw.

Inside its maw there are no intestines, no bones, no muscles. Only human heads, mouths wide open, greedily craving food.

Some at least retained human form.

From a distance, it looked like an ordinary angel with wings on its back, holding a sickle and a lantern.

The illusion shattered quickly. What it held in its hand was a head, and what was fixed on its shoulder was a lantern.

Comically, the eyeballs moved around inside the lantern, while light poured from the empty eye sockets of the head.

Angels in heaven. Demons in the deep underground. That’s what people say.

But not here. Demons don’t rise from the ground; they descend from the sky.

If those are angels—if those things can even be called angels—then what must demons be like?

The answer revealed itself before my eyes.

The floor of the Blue Fortress tore open. Black smoke gushed out like a wound being forcefully pulled apart after being cut by something sharp.

Surging and swelling, it clung to the steel boots of the knights.

Like a swamp, as if determined to devour them, it entangled the knights in its mire.

Yet none of the knights broke formation. Gritting their teeth and groaning, they recited prayers.

Though they were prayers they had recited all their lives, they were disorganized, out of order, and a mess of repeated phrases.

Still, they were worthy prayers. Because they believed them to be prayers. Likewise, they still believed in Günther.

I watched Günther, his face gleaming with sweat as he burst into laughter. Günther raising both arms high to welcome the sailing ship rushing toward him.

Then. Woooong—the trumpet sounded, signaling the start of battle. The signal from the central watchtower.

The sound bounced around inside the stone tower before finally escaping through the exit. It felt as if the entire tower was resonating.

The priests in the first row chanted spells in unison.

A wave of holy light, like lava flowing from a volcano, washed over the fortress floor. The darkness that had been greedily swallowing people instantly subsided.

“Ready to fire!”

The archers aimed their bows at the sky. The ballistas adjusted their angles.

It didn’t matter where they aimed as long as it was higher than horizontal. No matter how they shot, they would hit the demons filling the sky.

“Fire!”

The moment the arrows flew, the priests in the second row offered their prayers in unison.

Holy flames formed at the tips of the flying arrows. Beams of light shot up from the ground, striking the darkness pouring down from the sky.

Light arrows pierced the bodies of the beasts. The large darts from the ballistas impaled three angels at once.

Those creatures, burned by light and pierced by steel, were crushed, burst, cooked, and burned in the sky.

Dark red flesh and black blood rained down like a storm. It stuck to the knights’ armor with wet slaps.

Some covered their faces and fell to their knees. Others retched and vomited what was in their mouths.

But the formation still held.

The angels’ momentum remained unbroken. Barely even half a layer had been peeled away.

Then, Günther opened his hand. Golden waves rippling gently on the ground rushed toward him all at once.

The waves that had been swaying back and forth following his hand, twitching like a snake turning its head to follow fingertips, when he suddenly pointed to the far sky,

Like a dog trying to catch a flying disc, like a snake flicking its tongue before suddenly extending its body in a straight line,

The wave of light transformed into an enormous spear.

A weapon of earth defying the heavens.

The fire of humanity against divine punishment.

Just as humans stole fire and hid in caves to escape the wrath when the sky chastised the earth with lightning and thunder,

Just as humans first stood against and defied God after being driven from paradise, the massive spear of light pierced through the sailing ship.

A scream was heard.

It was the kind of scream darkness might have let out when first seeing light. Darkness was threatened by the mere existence of light.

Darkness feared and avoided light, but light, yearning for love, was destined to follow darkness forever.

Love became resentment and anger. Light shattered the heart of darkness.

Flesh, timber, masts, and cannons flew from the sailing ship as it twitched and screamed.

“…!”

The people in the fortress saw it. The flesh hanging limply beneath the sailing ship suspended in the sky, and a human face rising from that flesh.

It was the face of Abbot Arius.

Though he shed no tears, he was clearly crying, laughing, and raging. Though no voice came out, he was still pitifully pleading for something.

He was clearly struggling to come down to earth somehow.

Like someone swallowed alive in another’s stomach, he was struggling to tear through the membrane and return to earth, desperately fighting to escape.

“Brother! My brother! Rest! Rest! May you find eternal rest in the arms of your brothers and sisters, may the wings of the two-headed eagle gather you!”

Günther shouted, waving his hand. The priests in the first and second rows opened their hands.

Stakes of light, thinner than Günther’s but much sharper, pierced the sagging tumor all at once.

Blood and pus burst in all directions like a leather water bag pierced with an awl.

Arius’s face, larger than the gate, shrank and shrank, pitifully turning to porridge before falling to the ground with a thud.

It mixed with the soil under the feet of the knights who were busy maintaining formation while moving around. But in the confusion, with everyone looking up at the sky,

No one could tell if this was truly the eternal rest Arius had sought all his life, the peaceful nest he couldn’t find despite being wrapped in the arms of countless women and jewel-encrusted clothing.

There was a reason they had to keep looking at the sky. Broken pieces were falling to the ground.

If they had been spiritual entities, they could have been burned with light, but these were clearly physical objects.

The signal for withdrawal sounded.

Except for the heavy infantry who raised their shields diagonally over their heads and the light infantry who widened their spacing, the rest quickly moved toward the wall.

Soldiers waiting outside the wall lined up on temporary stairs, passing shields into the fortress.

As if this too had been planned, the soldiers on the wall, like the heavy infantry in the center, held large shields diagonally over their heads to protect themselves.

Now the archers outside the gate were also shooting arrows. Beams of light stretched up to the sky from all directions. Yet still there were many monsters.

And at the edge was a black knight wrapped in darkness. Like the shadow of Death cast from heaven to earth, the shadow emanating from his body protected the monsters.

Like an angel of punishment, he too aimed his sheathed sword at the ground, directly at Günther’s heart, as he descended.

The heavy infantry didn’t move. Günther still kept his head raised. The forces huddled at the edge of the wall didn’t break their defensive formation.

300 paces. Closer and closer. Close enough to read a glance, to see the movement of lips.

200 paces. Close enough to see the tension in the muscles gripping the sword, to count how many horns had grown inside the monster’s mouth.

100 paces. Close enough to see hostility. Close enough to read endless hatred. Close enough to see the determination to kill you no matter what. At that moment—

“Fire!”

The ballistas, now loaded with heavy darts, opened fire all at once.

It was different from before. The angle was below horizontal. At this rate, they would barely clear the heads of the soldiers forming the shield wall at the edge.

The soldiers fired anyway. Steel darts made a vicious sound as they embedded in the stone wall above the soldiers’ heads.

They shattered the solid stone wall as if it were an eggshell. The wall was pierced through before it could collapse, such was the force of the shot.

And ropes were tied to the ends of the darts. Günther opened his hand again. The ropes all burst into holy light.

The monsters descending to earth caught fire in the net. Beasts writhed and howled on top of the net.

The smell of burning rotten flesh was agonizing. The sight of crimson blood chunks falling with a splat was hideous.

The Knight of the Scabbard threw himself over them. By sheer force, by brute strength, he came down to earth clutching the ropes. He didn’t care that light was devouring darkness.

Beasts and angels poured down through the gaps in the torn net. But the heavy infantry had already completed their formation.

From gaps just wide enough for one person to pass through, light infantry armed with nets and spears rushed out and threw their nets. These nets too were consecrated with light and dug into the beasts’ flesh.

The light infantry stabbed them with spears. The Knight of the Scabbard stood up and swung his sword, but this time the shield-bearing heavy infantry charged.

Though shields were dented and bodies struck by the scabbard were pushed back, they charged relentlessly. The enraged infantry closed in. Maces were swung in all directions.

Seeing no viable option, the Knight of the Scabbard turned into shadow and smoke. He intended to relocate and fight again. But this time, Günther wouldn’t let him go.

A shadow extending from one hand clung to Laios. Light extending from the other hand pressed down on him.

The loud sound of armor crumpling. Laios rolled on the floor, caught in a net of light. His sword lay a short distance away from him.

“Aaaaargh!”

Laios raged and flailed his hands. He tried to crawl somehow to grasp his sword.

But Günther was already stepping gently on the sword. He looked down at Laios with the gaze of one looking down at a pitiful insect.