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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 30: The Sunset that Doesn’t Set (4)
At first, nothing was visible.
I could tell only that it wasn't magic but some kind of trickery.
After the demon waved its hand, suddenly seizing control of my mana, I was left in shock.
One thing was clear: it didn’t belong to this world.
Perhaps it was something unique to demons.
A sense of danger crept in, and then something changed.
‘Rod.’
Driven by the thought that I had to stop it somehow, I infused mana into the rod, and my eyes began to see the “threads” of the demon.
It was faint.
The shapes and the results differed, and it felt foreign.
But ultimately, it was a “thread” nonetheless.
[Screeeeeech!!!]
The demon screamed in pain, clutching the spot where its horn had fallen.
The surrounding mana rippled, upheaving the ground.
The screech felt like it was clawing at my soul.
My gaze naturally fell to the rod in my hand.
‘What kind of object is this?’
I thought it was just a solid item, but I had been mistaken.
It was an object that responded to “sight.”
‘The First Pharos?’
That name flashed briefly through my mind, but I brushed the thought aside.
I looked back at the demon.
‘First, that thing.’
I steadied my breath.
Although I infused mana into my necklace, fully recovering from internal injuries was still far off.
It was only enough to hold my body together a bit longer, delaying its inevitable collapse.
‘After all, using both aura and swordsmanship without proper preparation… it’s a wonder I’m still alive.’
This demon wielded sixth-circle magic.
To confront it, I needed aura, but the aura I’d generated with an unprepared body was eating me up from the inside.
Adding swordsmanship on top of that made my muscles and joints feel like they were grinding away.
Blood filled my mouth.
But I couldn’t let it show.
Swallowing the blood, I spoke.
“…Let’s go again.”
[Wait! Wait!]
Boom!
In an instant, I stepped forward, closing in on the demon. T
he demon cast a spell.
Was it hasty?
Unlike before, no strange threads appeared.
If it was pure magic, it was even easier.
Slash!
I dodged, slashed, and countered.
The demon retaliated each time.
It was chaos.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The garden began to fall apart beyond recognition.
My breathing grew heavy, my vision blurred.
But I held onto my focus. Because—
―A knight only closes his eyes on the battlefield when he dies.
That’s what I had learned.
Crack―!
I shattered a petal-shaped barrier.
I infused mana into the rod, drawing power from my inner eye.
―――――!
The world seemed to slow down to the point it felt like time itself had slowed.
I was gradually getting the hang of it.
Not because I was particularly talented.
‘It’s similar.’
The connection between the rod and my eye was astonishingly similar to using “swordsmanship.”
So I willed my focus into both my eyes and my weapon, imposing an intent on my sword technique.
I took a deep breath.
‘Time to end this.’
No, time to sever it—sever this demon from Beatrice.
With that resolve, I refocused.
‘There it is.’
Something began to emerge as a hazy mist.
Among the sunset hues, a particularly crimson thread burned bright.
‘Arm, horn, wing.’
Three parts entirely overtaken by the demon.
The horn was already gone.
Only the wing and arm remained.
From this angle, I couldn’t cut its arm.
It was too close, and its arm was already reaching out for my neck.
‘Dodge.’
I leapt over the demon, spotting the exposed base of its wings.
And then,
Sssslash―!
[Screeeeeeech!]
I severed its wings.
One arm remained.
* * *
Beatrice bit her lip, stifling her groans.
Her mind was blank. S
he felt as if her consciousness would slip away if she let her guard down for even a moment.
Blood tears streamed from her remaining eye, sticky and warm, running down her cheek in vivid clarity.
She wanted to give up.
If she lost consciousness now, would it bring peace?
But she couldn’t give in.
‘Stay…’
She had to hold on.
That was the only thing she could do.
Beatrice was witnessing the most out of everyone in this battle.
As a mere bystander, she held onto information hidden from the others, inscribed in her mind.
The demon was in agony.
This sense of crisis showed that Yuren’s tactics were effective.
Sharing the demon’s eyes and vision, she knew something.
‘The rod.’
[Why is the Divine Tree here in the lower world?!]
The rod was known as the Divine Tree.
And as her mind resonated with it, she felt the demon’s discomfort with it.
Yuren was an unexpected factor to the demon.
Beatrice was the same.
When he first appeared, she could see no chance of victory.
It had been nothing but despair and guilt.
Although the guilt remained, the despair was lessened.
‘I alone can end this.’
With the sacrifice of her life, she could bring it to an end.
That thought gradually restored control over her body.
Demons thrived on despair, so when hope arose, their power would naturally weaken.
Wooooooong―!
The demon’s arm conjured a magic circle.
With her regained control, Beatrice tried to stop it.
But she was suppressed.
"Ugh...!"
[Hey! Can you just stay still for once?!]
The demon's voice was laced with irritation.
Beatrice covered her ears, continuing to resist.
She wasn't used to making excuses.
Instead of justifying her own actions, she felt she should take responsibility for her sins with her life.
That was the reason she endured.
‘Die, with me.’
[Ha! I'm not dying.]
Sure, the demon would simply return to the other dimension.
But that wouldn’t be the end.
‘It will still wound your essence. Since it’s the Divine Tree...!’
[……!!!]
‘You said it yourself, right? That our minds are entangled.’
The demon's deep-seated fear stemmed from that whip.
The injuries inflicted by it left marks on one's spirit.
Of course, a demon was a transcendent being.
This alone wouldn’t cause any serious harm, but it would leave a lasting wound on the demon’s soul, requiring time to heal.
[Don't make me laugh!!!]
Boom!!!
Mana and the demon's power merged.
Without any rules, without any order.
It was simply an explosion, meant to sweep away everything in the area.
But then—
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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Thud!
"Gotcha, you bastard."
Yuren took the hit and forced his way through space.
Startled, the demon tried to push him off, but Yuren grabbed the demon’s wrist.
With both feet, he pinned down Beatrice's stomach and neck.
The rod touched just under his armpit.
The demon spoke in a trembling voice.
[Wait, just wait. Let’s talk for a moment...]
"Get lost."
Crack!!!
[Aaaaaagh!!!]
Once more, mana enveloped the whip, and Yuren coughed up blood.
Yet he didn’t stop.
With blood vessels bursting in his eyes, he summoned his aura with a twisted, ferocious expression.
In that moment, Beatrice sensed it.
‘…It’s the end.’
Yuren muttered.
“Go.”
Crunch―!
Beatrice’s shoulder was torn off by Yuren's aura and strength, and an unbearable pain swallowed her mind whole.
[This… is insane…]
The last scene Beatrice saw was this:
Snap―!
Dark, viscous blood splattered through the air.
Behind it, cracks splintered across the red sky, pieces breaking and falling…
‘…Stars.’
Behind the shattered sky, the night sky sparkled with brilliant stars.
* * *
It was a dazzlingly bright night.
Beatrice felt a strange déjà vu as she ran, sniffling, watching herself.
‘Ah, I’m dreaming.’
She realized it instantly and simply observed what was to come.
She had no will of her own.
Just like moments before, when she was possessed by the demon, she could only watch as her body moved on its own.
She soon recognized the moment.
‘Oh, it’s that time.’
It was not long after she ascended to the 3rd rank.
Back then, she was evaluated as a promising talent set to challenge the 4th rank at the youngest age, and she received as much envy as praise.
She had been so young, and the public pressure was heavy.
Especially the expectations from the Magic Tower and her family.
—You must prove yourself. That is what it means to be a wizard, Beatrice. You have to surpass the 4th rank. If you can’t overcome the common wall, you will just be a fleeting footnote in history.
—Beatrice! The glory of the family rests on your shoulders! Just a bit more effort!
—Amazing! You are destined to be a masterpiece! The next era will surely be yours!
Everyone said it.
That she must reach the 4th rank.
That she must be great as a wizard.
She tried not to disappoint.
While other noble girls studied etiquette, she practiced magic.
When she wanted new clothes, she borrowed new magical tomes, and when others went for a walk, she locked herself in the tower’s chambers.
The piercing looks around her were too terrifying not to.
—In the end, she’s just a child.
—Ah, she only had a spark of genius after all.
—Beatrice, please…
She didn’t even know what drove her anymore.
Magic was no longer fun or interesting.
She performed it mechanically.
Yet, her heart could not withstand it.
The festering inside became so rotten that she couldn’t bear it any longer.
It was suffocating, making her want to run away.
But there was nowhere to run.
Her home, the streets, even the Magic Tower.
Everywhere was filled with people who knew her.
So, she found a place where no one was.
It was the Tower’s ceiling garden, a place said to be accessible only to the Tower Master.
Though the place she escaped to felt like a breath of fresh air, her chest still ached.
Each dazzlingly bright star felt like someone’s gaze.
The word "brilliance" was revolting.
And so, she sobbed.
That’s when it happened.
—Oh my, why are you crying?
She met her.
—Haha, did you prick yourself on a thorn? Let me see. The roses in this garden aren’t trimmed, so you might get hurt.
Floating in her dream, Beatrice’s memories clicked together as she looked at the woman’s face.
She felt tears well up.
—T-Tower Master…?
—Yes, Beatrice. Our little treasure.
A face etched with wrinkles.
Always wearing a pointed hat, laughing like an affectionate witch from a fairy tale.
A figure rarely seen in the tower due to her busyness, yet…
—It seems you’ve been through a lot.
This woman.
She wiped away Beatrice’s tears with wrinkled hands and stroked her cheek.
—Come here. It’s alright.
This person who embraced her…
—What troubles you so?
What had she said in response?
…Yes.
—That… it’s just… sob…
While crying, she clung on, saying it was all too hard.
She cried out like the young child she was.
She said she wanted to quit, and the Tower Master replied:
—It’s alright. Even if you can’t, it’s alright. I’m here. You can cry now.
That was her comfort.
The pointed hat that shielded her from the brilliantly shining stars, those gazes, was the Tower Master’s.
The warmth of the embrace, the hands that lifted her up, were hers.
Beatrice realized this only now.
Tears fell.
She resented herself for forgetting even this, for trying to shatter all she had built.
Self-reproach filled her, for being so easily ensnared and nearly destroying everything.
She felt unworthy of facing her.
“……”
Beatrice opened her eyes.
The night sky sparkled as brilliantly as that day.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
One of her eyes couldn’t see.
One of her arms had no feeling.
When she turned her head, she saw that the spot where her arm had been torn was roughly tied with ripped cloth to stop the bleeding.
“You’re finally awake.”
A man’s voice echoed.
Yuren was sitting on the ground, watching her.
Covered in wounds, breathing heavily.
Yet, somehow, his expression had a sense of relief.
Through him, she understood.
‘Ah, it’s over.’
Relief and regret.
With a sense of closure, Beatrice spoke.
“Kill me.”
She thought she should pay with her life.
But the response she got was this:
“Who said you get to die?”
Beatrice flinched.
Yuren continued, annoyed.
“Hey, what kind of person makes a mess and then asks others to clean it up?”
His words stabbed straight into her heart.
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[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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