Chapter 154: How to Write a Proper Ending (6)

[154] 24. How to Write a Proper Ending (6)

I can’t appreciate anything.

I can’t feel anything.

I can’t consume anything.

I can’t hear anything.

I can’t smell anything.

That’s why, it’s comfortable.

Actually, it’s something I’ve longed for since a very long time ago.

To live is to walk.

But, forget reaching my destination, I haven’t even been able to walk straight.

I stumble,

I falter,

And in the end, I fall.

So, in truth, I wanted to rest.

I wanted to close my eyes and stay fallen.

Yes, like this.

“…”

…Yes, like this.

So, let us close our eyes now.

Let us let go of the little self that remains.

-Get up.

Let us ignore such bothersome voices.

-You can’t rest.

My steps end here.

-Not you.

I quietly closed my eye…

-Remember your pain.

It’s cruel to have your life flash before your eyes.

[Cut off your wrists.]

The chopper, as cold as a crescent moon.

“________!!”

[You filthy, wristless bastard…! How dare you touch the Saint…!!]

The heated golden needle approaching my eyes.

“________!!”

[Open your mouth. It’ll be over soon.]

The blade entering my throat.

“____! ____!!”

[I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…!]

An axe stained with moonlight and tears.

“__! _____!!”

[From now on, this knife will dig out your heart. Do you understand what that means?]

“________!”

Pain is the whetstone of the self.

With each scream, the soul that was being swept away regains its form. The limbs that had gone slack convulse and thrash.

In my eyes, fragments of nightmares,

In my hands, the echoes of pain,,

In my throat, the bitterness of blood,

In my ears, my own screams,

In my nose, the dizzying scent of blood,

The history of pain pierces me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

And so, ‘I’ exist once more.

“Guhek…! Weheeek…!! This shit…”

After vomiting yellowish gastric acid, I barely lift my head to look around.

It’s a scene that seemed to embody destruction.

Houses, castle walls, rivers, monsters, and people are arranged randomly. Naturally, few among them are intact.

Most things are disheveled and broken. Even the broken cross-sections of buildings are rough and hideous.

As if they’ve been gnawed at by something.

…Where else could this be if not inside the goddess’s stomach.

A space so obvious it’s disgusting.

I sigh and look at the ground I’m standing on.

It’s a castle wall, seemingly torn from some city. Two steps ahead, in a crevice, a tattered corpse is wedged, swaying.

It’s probably no coincidence that it looks like a premonition of my future.

Sighing, I pulled out all my magic tools from inside my clothes. Naturally, there was nothing here that would be of help in this situation.

[For 200 years, I’ve been desperately yearning for freedom. And you think I wouldn’t have noticed Alain’s arrangements? The marks of sacrifice hidden within the bodies of the Empire’s citizens?]

…To begin with, even if I got out, it doesn’t seem like there would be hope.

Despite that, I can’t just sit here and give up.

Because there are others waiting for me outside.

First, I should at least get a grasp of the overall ‘terrain’ of this place…

*Squelch-*

At the familiar sound, my head turns involuntarily. My gaze settles on the inside of the tattered corpse’s mouth.

*Squirm-*

Specifically, the black lump of slime crawling out from inside.

It’s the same form as what was once the ‘civil servant’s’ soul.

Is this also someone’s soul.

However, unlike the ‘civil servant’, it couldn’t maintain its form. It oozes slime as it barely manages to crawl toward me.

And then… it speaks to me.

I know it sounds crazy. I’m also wondering whether I might be suffering from a mental illness right now.

But clearly, a voice comes from it. I can hear it, albeit faintly.

Weakly, softly, and sorrowfully.

And its content was hard to accept.

“Seriously?”

*Squelch-*

My head spins. Thoughts tangle like threads. Less because of how complex the situation is, but because the content is hard to believe.

“That’s…”

*Squirm-*

“Well, if this really is the inside of a soul, then it makes sense, but…”

*Squelch…*

“No, I know how to do it. The problem is…”

*Squi… rm…*

The slime shakes its body feebly. What’s more, its body is rapidly fading. It was proof that time was running out.

So my contemplation was short, and my decision quick.

I reached into my chest.

***

Amy, her body rotting, charged toward the goddess while letting out a terrible scream. The killing intent imbued in her swinging sword seems like it could cleave even a great mountain in two.

But her body betrays her will.

*Thwack-*

With a light gesture from the goddess, Amy’s body is sent flying. Her battered body falls and can hardly rise again.

“You, Rem…! Rem…!! Ugh…!”

“How noisy. If you want to see him that badly, why don’t you just let me eat you?”

The Goddess’s delicate foot presses down on Amy’s throat. Amy’s body convulses as her airway is blocked.

But it wasn’t for long.

“[irfe!]”

A river of fire engulfs the Goddess.

Standing at its source is Parsley, barely on her feet. With half her body blackened, she grits her teeth and held the flames fast.

At least she does until the very next moment, when the flames disappear into the Goddess’s mouth.

“This is starting to irritate me.”

“…!”

The Goddess’s red hand bursts through Parsley’s stomach. As she flicks her hand like brushing off an insect, Parsley’s body is thrown to the ground.

“You all have no chance of winning.”

“Shut u…!”

Parsley coughs up blood as she struggles to sit up. A faint light flows around her, as if supporting her body. Moreover, the hole in her stomach begins to slowly close.

The Goddess clicks her tongue and swipes at the flowing light with her hand.

All the flowing light is sucked into the goddess, and immediately Parsley’s body collapses again.

The goddess turns her head toward the source of the light.

“…Why don’t you also stop while you’re at it?”

Clara was nearly half pulverized. Her broken and decayed limbs seem to have lost their function long ago.

“Without the plague, it might have been a different story, but this resistance is meaningless.”

The Goddess looks around with what almost seemed like a benevolent smile.

Amy, Parsley, Clara, Feya, Rosalia, and Marianne. They all lay sprawled out in a miserable state.

“Why do you deliberately invite such pain? Why defy the natural order of things?”

A smile appears on the Goddess’s lips.

“Just obediently come into my body. What awaits you is not death. But an eternal union toward freedom…”

At that moment, an unfamiliar sensation stabbed the goddess’s throat.

“Ugh…!”

The Goddess’s firm body shakes for the first time. She covers her mouth with a pale complexion.

“What, this awful taste… urk…!”

The goddess uses both hands to cover her mouth. Even so, her cheeks swelled as if something was surging up.

And finally…

“Uweeek-!”

Black vomit erupts from her widely opened mouth.

The vomit, pouring out like sewage, only stopped when a man emerged from it.

“Rem…”

He lies on the vomit as if asleep. The goddess approaches him while wiping her mouth.

“You’ve done… a rather unpleasant thing. I graciously swallowed you whole without chewing, out of consideration…”

Again, the Goddess’s mouth opens. Instead of red flesh, a black void emerged, stretching to the size of a bear.

“This time, I’ll savor every bite.”

And just as the void rushed toward the sleeping Rem.

*Slash-*

A sharp flash cuts through the void.

“Kuhk…!”

Spattering red blood, the goddess staggered back. Frustration and anger flickered across her face.

But the moment she sees her attacker, the frustration and anger turns into a sneer.

“Sharik, looks like you’ve had a bit of a hard time?”

“Haa… Shut… up…!”

Sharik struggles to continue speaking. With each syllable, blood drips heavily from his missing left arm and right leg.

At least the fact that he wasn’t infected by the plague was somewhat better than the others lying down.

“You… Haa… to these guys… not even a finger…!”

“Well, the fight isn’t over yet.”

The Goddess snaps her fingers.

“________!!”

A ghastly scream echoes high in the sky.

Sharik’s face turns blank as he turns his head toward the scream.

“ItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurts!!”

The Irene-wolf, whose neck Sharik had clearly cut off, rises. The severed head lets out an eerie scream while extending tentacles toward its torso.

And what followed was similar to repairing a doll. The tentacles simply act as the thread and needle.

“I’llKillYouI’llKillYouI’llKillYouaaa!!!”

In an instant, the Irene-wolf with its head reattached turns toward Sharik. Its eyes and face are distorted with hatred.

And that’s not all.

Suddenly, a gust of wind sweeps away the smoke that had been concealing Rem and the others. Monsters that have not yet died surround Sharik with obvious hostility.

If the word ‘despair’ were to be visualized, maybe it would look like this.

As if proving that, Sharik’s hand, which had been gripping his sword, slowly loosens.

That’s why I firmly grasp his hand.

“Snap out of it, Father.”

“…Shafiq?”

Seeing his surprised face, I grinned.

“I’ll take over from here. Take the others and go.”

“That’s…”

It was a line I had mulled over carefully, but Sharik’s face is only colored with bewilderment. The one who asked about the reason wasn’t Sharik, but the goddess.

“In that state?”

…Yes, I admit it.

My current state wasn’t exactly perfect.

My left eye has been torn out, and so has my left arm. Honestly, even keeping my eyes open was hard due to how much blood I lost.

But I can still stand.

I can still walk.

That’s why I turn my back to Sharik and face the goddess.

“This is just that moment.”

Even though I didn’t look back, I could still picture Sharik’s expression. I can imagine his trembling fist.

“…Alright, I’ll honor that.”

Maybe because of that, when he said those words in a pained voice, my heart ached slightly.

And once more when his presence moved away.

Despite never having met for the past 200 years, basically being strangers.

Blood ties are genuinely so strange, I find myself thinking unwittingly.

“Who said I’d let any of you go? Irene, tear those two elves apart…”

I roll up my sleeve.

17 holes carved into my arm.

The scars left on me from 200 years of life as a lab rat.

The moment she sees them, anxiety finally clouds that smug bitch’s face. I can even see her trying to hide it with a forced smile.

“You wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Oh really?”

“If you did, you would have already done it.”

Damn, she hit the bullseye, huh. Perhaps sensing that, the unease on the Goddess’s face subsides.

“Be honest now. You’re scared, aren’t you. It will taint even your soul. Even if I truly perish, you would never be able to return to being an elf.”

Her voice seeps into my ears like poison. Makes me increasingly aware of my trembling hands and shaking legs.

“Above all, do you really think your sacrifice will be worthwhile? You’ll only be able to stop me temporarily.”

Yes, I knew that.

That’s why, even as I was becoming a bloody mess, I hesitated until the end. I thought I wanted to die as an elf.

“So, just make way for me, simply…”

“But this life was given to me.”

I look back on my life.

No, I only look back from when I met Rem until now.

Because I don’t consider literally only breathing while holed up in a small room living. Because 200 years of confinement wasn’t living, it was just postponing death.

My life only began when he appeared.

Going on journeys,

Meeting my family,

Meeting those idiots,

Laughing, chatting, arguing…

Each day was more than enough to fill the void of the past 200 years and more.

Damn it, I can feel my eyes sweating.

“A brilliant, glorious life.”

Naturally, I don’t want to let go. Who would want to give something like that up. How could I not cling to the life I regained after 200 years.

But what choice do I have.

“So, it’s only right to give it back.”

I’m not the kind of person who can live while being indebted.

At some point, the trembling had stopped.

I extend my arm toward the goddess.

“My name is Shafiq de Fasitao Rodiner si Olaminea kun Dinar.”

I smile broadly at the heat rising from my body.

I grit my teeth at the pain that seems to burn each and every one of my veins.

I shed my last tears while watching the flames rising from the holes in my body.

“Friend of the Ashwood tribe, the most darn awesome elf of the Rose Rem mercenary group, friend of that idiot Rem…”

It hurts. Holy shit it hurts.

But I can’t help but smile.

I can’t help but roar from deep within my heart.

How could I not?

“A legend of this age, the one who lived the biggest fricking life ever and died an even more epic death!!”

After all, this life is so goddamn epic.

200 years ago, the war between the goddess and Alain. What played the biggest role in that war was the ‘Unquenchable Flame’.

A flame that never dies, for it burns souls as its fuel.

A weapon of mass destruction that reduced friend and foe alike to ashes without distinction.

Its ferocity was enough to make even the bloated goddess retreat.

And solely because of that, the fire was destined to be disposed of as soon as the war ended. Because an excessively efficient weapon is dangerous just by existing.

However, some at the Magic Tower didn’t think so. Those greedy ones wanted to steal part of that fire and mass-produce it.

By inserting it into the body of an elven child they had acquired by chance.

Of course, that research wasn’t easy. It was something that couldn’t possibly be achieved within a single human lifetime.

So the mages passed down the research to their disciples. And those disciples passed it down to their disciples, and those disciples to their disciples…

So on and so forth until 200 years passed.

The mages finally achieved their long-held ambition.

And in return, they were reduced to ashes, along with the World Tree.

Fallen into madness, he burned the world,

The unfortunate monster, Shafiq, who found peace only after reducing the world to ash.

…At least, that was his original fate.

But his fate was twisted.

By the safety measures Alain had put in place just in case,

By the kindness of a boy tormented by guilt,

By the years he spent laughing and talking with that boy.

The monster, Shafiq…

No.

The troublemaker of the Rose Rem Mercenary Group,

Rem’s biggest headache,

The pointy-eared idiot with a pretty face,

The guy who’s annoying, yet someone you’d miss if he weren’t around,

…The guy who lived a ridiculously damned fun life.

[_______!!]

Shafiq, the pointy ears, let out a roar and charged at the goddess.

And then, it rains.

With each raindrop, flames dim with a sorrowful sound. The white-burned fragments of Shafiq’s body become soaked in gray.

Among them, what was once his head.

It succumbs to the weight of the rain, crumbling slowly.

However, in a sense, his head doesn’t crumble. As the middle part of his mouth sinks, the lip area around the middle stays and makes it look like both corners of the mouth are raised.

As if mocking her.

*Crunch-!*

“…Damn it.”

The goddess shatters Shafiq’s head with a kick. She nervously brushes off the flames clinging to her body and looks around.

But all she can see is ash. The monsters that once filled the earth are gone.

“ItHurtsSoMuchItHurtsSooMuchSeojinOppaSorryEeee…”

Even Irene is still writhing and burning like firewood.

That damned elf had blown everything away.

The goddess, furrowing her brow in irritation, waves her hand.

“__________!!”

Torn apart, stitched back, twisted, and flipped. Irene’s body screams as it is reconstructed.

Of course, that doesn’t extinguish the fire attached to it. It’s just that the scream, like scratching at empty air, helps relieve her frustration.

Thanks to that, the goddess, barely regaining composure, strokes her face.

Yes, the situation is still in her hands. The plan has merely been delayed a bit.

It’s just…

The goddess’s eyes turn to the distant mountain. To where Sharik disappeared while carrying the others.

All that’s left is to tie everything up neatly.