Chapter 135: The Price

[Another Tale]

[This is a different story.]

“Felix…!”

“…”

“Felix!!!”

“Damn it, I can’t do it! I can’t!!!”

“Get a grip! You know this isn’t something we want to do! It’s something we have to do! Felix! If you don’t do it, everyone here will die!!!”

The woman chastising Felix was Tilla.

Tilla was the mage of Felix’s hero party.

She had personally conducted the ritual of the Asking Left Hand.

And was the first to be consumed by its power.

Despite cleansing herself and carefully caring for her skin even after an exhausting day of travel, her skin was now marred with black stains.

“Listen closely! It’s already too late for me!”

“Tilla, there has to be a way to save you—”

“No!!! I know my body better than anyone! Unless we fulfill the Asking Left Hand’s demand right now, I’m as good as dead! Tell me, Felix! Can you do it!?”

“…”

“So please…! Please!!! Do what you have to do!!!”

“Tilla…”

“Don’t look at me like that. Promise me. Promise me you won’t feel guilty for what you’re about to do. Promise you won’t blame yourself for any of this…!”

“But—! If I hadn’t taken interest in the Asking Left Hand…! If I hadn’t insisted on exploring that ancient ruin—!!!”

“If that’s the case, then I never would’ve followed you. But I did. I followed you, the one who boldly stepped into that ruin and pursued its relics, because you always chased knowledge with more passion than anyone! Because you’re Felix the Seeker! And I’ve never regretted following you! Everything I experienced by your side—because I was by your side—was the greatest blessing of my life!!!”

“…”

“Tilla.”

She grasped Felix’s hand.

The one gripping the holy sword.

And gave him strength.

“Are you sure?”

She looked into his eyes and asked.

It was a ritual of sorts, something they always did before plunging into reckless danger.

“…”

Felix looked back into her eyes, and wore that same foolish grin he always did.

As if nothing had changed.

“I mean, what are the odds we actually die?”

“…”

Normally, Tilla would’ve scowled and replied—

—If it comes to that, I’ll make damn sure only you die, so just remember that.

But now, she simply smiled, bright yet fragile.

“Yeah. Everything’s going to be okay.”

A moment later,

Felix killed Tilla.

He did so to fulfill the demand of the Asking Left Hand.

Yes.

All of it—every unreasonable, cruel act—was done to meet that unfair, impossible demand.

The price of a wish made by someone else.

The consequence of a ruined city.

Felix looked at Tilla’s fallen body.

At the holy sword stained with her blood.

“…This should do it.”

He tried to convince himself.

But then—

Crack. Crack.

A ghastly snapping sound, unlike dead branches breaking.

The Asking Left Hand began to move again.

It began to speak its next demand.

“…Ha.”

The hero let out a dry laugh.

Then laughed harder, madly.

Felix finally understood.

How arrogant they had been.

“To pay the price for a destroyed city…”

Thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands, maybe.

There was no way the lives of people like them could ever pay that price.

The Asking Left Hand’s demands continued.

Even if everyone present were to perish—

Crack. Crack.

It did not stop.

Because the debt was not yet paid in full.

▶ Fate 85: The Left Hand That Grants Wishes

Flap flap flap…

It was like a flock of birds blotting out the sky.

Countless sheets of paper rode unseen currents through the air,

Swirling around a single figure at their center.

A girl stood in the eye of the storm.

Eyes deep and clear, as if they could contain anything, and never be full.

Her name was Pochena.

The spirit of the Sword of Insight.

This place was Pochena’s inner world.

The swirling pages were the manifestation of her power.

The Power of Insight.

The ability to record everything experienced by the sword and its wielder.

From the scent of grass brushed in passing to the texture of ground beneath one’s feet, even to the feelings and realizations of heroes themselves.

It was a compendium of knowledge gathered over countless years and countless wielders.

Not just a library, but a grand archive in and of itself.

This was the power that had once turned a mere curious young man into a great adventurer.

And now, it began to reveal its worth in another way.

“Bring before me one who holds the sword at dawn, commands arcane mysteries at noon, rules nature in the evening, and brings light with divinity at daybreak.”

Pochena echoed the Asking Left Hand’s demand.

The pages drifted around her, brushing past her eyes.

Like fitting scattered puzzle pieces together,

Words, letters, sentences formed, broke apart, and came together again.

Seeking an answer.

Searching for the meaning behind the demand.

“Ugh…!”

Pochena’s young face twisted in pain.

The price of destroying a city.

A request so absurd, so impossible, it strained even her vast powers of insight.

Despite all her knowledge,

The answer was not easy to find.

“So basically… someone who can wield sword, magic, elementals, and divine power all at once…”

Pochena shook her head like someone who’d heard a very bad joke.

She had witnessed so many rare and unique individuals in her long history with the heroes.

More than most would see in several lifetimes.

But never—not once—had she encountered anyone who matched this demand.

Not even close.

Of course not.

Even mastering two of those would be an extraordinary feat.

But all four?

Normally, she would have concluded definitively that such a being could not exist.

That it was fantasy.

But—

Pochena knew how magical contracts worked.

One could not demand the impossible.

Nor could one be asked to pay with the impossible.

In other words:

The Asking Left Hand’s demand might seem impossible—but it was not.

Just as the destruction of an entire nation, absurd as it was, had been fulfilled.

Incredibly—

The demand was legitimate.

It could actually be done.

“…How very comforting.”

An impossible demand, and one close to impossible,  what’s the difference, really?

From Pochena’s perspective, both were just as hopeless.

Still, they could not give up.

The Asking Left Hand…

Its power far exceeded their expectations.

If they failed to fulfill its demand, It would bring inevitable ruin to all who took part in the ritual.

“Urgh…!”

How long had she been searching?

“…I’ve got it!”

Pochena shouted with joy.

Her power had finally uncovered an answer.

Fragments of memory from various Seekers.

Together, they pointed to a single figure.

“Tarak of the Thousand Faces…”

He was a necromancer who had mastered blood magic and dark rituals.

He sealed souls inside himself, wielding their powers as his own.

He controlled swordsmen.

He commanded mages.

He manipulated elementalists.

And he usurped the light of priests.

“Bring before me one who holds the sword at dawn, commands arcane mysteries at noon, rules nature in the evening, and brings light with divinity at daybreak.”

He matched the description perfectly.

The problem?

He lived long ago.

Even if they could cross space… could they cross time and bring him here?

Incredibly, yes.

The source of the information on Tarak—

A scattered tome, gathered through insight’s power.

It was a text Tarak himself had written.

A record of his evil deeds, written as if they were great achievements.

It even included a message for the reader, a taunt to challengers, a guide to followers.

A ritual for summoning Tarak’s soul.

And now, there were three heroes gathered here.

Plus their companions.

If they combined their strength, they could perform the ritual.

But—

“…Someone’s going to get hurt.”

Three holy swords and their wielders, all in one place.

No matter how powerful a necromancer might be, their dark energy would inevitably lose potency before heroes.

Subjugating a descended necromancer wasn’t all that difficult.

The issue lay in how the descent was carried out.

To summon Tarak, someone’s body had to be used as a vessel.

To accept the existence of a mighty necromancer.

And then, to subjugate that necromancer within the same body.

Could one come out of that unharmed?

“…No. It’s not just a matter of injury. There’s a high chance… they’ll lose themselves.”

If luck were on their side, the result might be a permanent disability.

Barring that, death was all but guaranteed.

Pochena agonized.

Was this the right path?

Was it right to sacrifice one for the sake of the many?

Was it right for them to pay the price of another’s sin?

She didn’t know.

But one thing was clear—

“…Even so, we can’t just do nothing and give up.”

Flutter flutter

The pages drifting around Pochena came to a halt, then vanished altogether.

The accelerated thought process maintained by the Power of Insight ended.

Pochena exited her inner world and addressed her master, Felix.

—Felix! I found it! A way to fulfill the Asking Left Hand’s demand!

“…It’s alright now.”

—Felix! What do you mean, “alright”!? You’re not thinking of giving up, are you!? Just walking away like this!? No way! I know you better than that! The Felix I know would never give up like this!

“That’s not what I meant. I meant… it’s already over.”

—No, it’s not!

“No, I mean, everything’s been resolved.”

—?

Only then did Pochena realize what the atmosphere in the room was like.

The ominous tension that had been accelerating toward disaster had suddenly fizzled out.

“Haa… Haa…”

Tilla, who had been writhing under the influence of the Asking Left Hand’s power, had regained her composure.

The black blotches that had been spreading across her skin were now fading.

Just as Felix had said, it was a sight only possible after the demand had been fulfilled.

—How…?

Stunned, Pochena stared blankly from within her inner world.

Felix and the others turned their gaze toward Risir in silent answer.

Then—

Risir approached Tilla and reached out toward her body.

“…”

With everyone’s attention focused on him,

Risir shook his head.

“Oh. Nope, doesn’t work.”

“””…?”””

What didn’t work?

The cryptic comment drove everyone present nearly mad with curiosity.

—No, seriously, how did this happen…?

Still without an answer, Pochena pestered Felix.

“…I don’t know. Risir just raised his hand and it… kind of worked?”

—…?

What kind of answer was that?

Instead of clearing up the mystery, it only deepened their confusion.

Crack. Crack.

“””…!!!”””

Everyone jumped and turned to the Asking Left Hand.

It had begun to move again.

“Wait, what!? Wasn’t that supposed to be the end!?”

Jane’s cried out in alarm.

It was Pochena who answered.

—No. There’s no way just that was enough.

“What…?”

—It said so itself. This is the price for a destroyed city. Hundreds… thousands… maybe tens of thousands…

Jane’s eyes widened.

His horror slowly spread to those around him.

—Do you think we can really pay that price?

The room grew oppressively silent.

No one dared to voice hopeful thoughts.

Maybe…

Their destruction was only a matter of time—

—Bring forth the celestial pillar that bridges heaven and earth.

Risir, hearing the voice inside, sheepishly raised his hand.

—…Bring the legendary blade, soaked in a thousand bloods, forged in a hundred battles, and engraved with ten glories.

Again, Risir raised his hand at the voice.

—…Bring the bottomless pouch that spews forth endless gold.

This one he wasn’t so sure about.

But still, Risir raised his hand just in case.

—…Bring the endless silk vast enough to cover the world.

Really no idea on this one.

But hey, you never know, right?

—…Bring forth the supreme being before whom even ruling sovereigns kneel and kiss the ground.

Huh?

Flash.

—…This is the final demand.

“””…”””