271 Article 270 Ash to the Sky




 That must be one stupid woman.

 Roseau thought as he threw off his heavy body, feeling a slight warmth in his fingertips. You can feel the heat of the fire in your body slowly fading away.

 He is foolish to the utmost extent, carrying what he does not have to carry, and desperately trying to grasp something with his small body.

 Her role as a ruler and her strong sense of autonomy to be right will never let her go. And yet, sometimes she is unable to do so, and is bound by petty emotions such as pity and sorrow, a contradictory situation that can only be called foolish.

 Such is her twisted nature. No matter how far she goes, Philos-Treit is a woman who cannot escape from herself.

 But it is because of her, because of Philos-Treit, that Roseau yearned for her. She is a woman who tries to be right, but because of that, she is somehow distorted. Perhaps rightness is always distorted.

"What do you say, Roseau? I'll give you one chance. I can make it easy for you, and Philos-Treit can judge you. It's your decision, make it your own.

 I heard my enemy muttering above me. It was a simple voice, but it wasn't an insult to the other party, just a throwaway one. It's not the kind of mercy you want to show to a demon, no matter how you look at it.

 I think. I'm sure this Lugis guy is not serious somehow. That's why he crossed blades with the demon himself here and won.

 Yes, he is a winner. Roseau's cheeks wavered.

"I'll take care of myself. I'll take care of myself. That's the way it is. Besides, you don't have time for a little guy like me.

 He felt the heat of the flames begin to scorch his own body. This strange sensation of a body that has become a kind of assimilation to the flames burning up and then returning to ashes. From my fingertips, my existence is slowly beginning to collapse. At this rate, my existence will disappear.

 Isn't that natural? After all, my original self has collapsed. Having ceased to be a person, and thus having lost the proof of its existence, the demonic can only leave the world. The heat of the fire, filled with hatred, is destined to wither in the end.

 He turns his gaze toward Philos-Treit. I saw him approaching me, his limbs trembling like a baby's. She seemed to be shouting something loudly, but my ears were not picking up the sound well. I wanted to hear her voice at least for the last time. The voice of the woman I longed to hear.

 In the end, I was foolishly unable to hate her from beginning to end. I don't know why. We had opposed each other so many times, exchanged words, even cursed each other at times.

 Roseau's cheek falls. It must have started then. When I was still the lowest of the low, I fell in love with her on patrol, and that's when she called out to me.

 Keep talking. My cheeks naturally rippled.

"I've got guards and adventurers poking around the nearest hexenbiest nest. The deadly snow beasts are fierce, they'll soon attack the city of Philos and your army. Now, there's only one thing to do.

 As he looked up slightly, Roseau could see that Lugis' eyes had narrowed slightly. You can't tell what kind of emotion is in those eyes. But whatever it is, it's not a good feeling.

 Fool, I'm your enemy. That much you know for sure. Let me at least be your enemy from the beginning to the end of my life for this disgrace. That's how I'll die.

 My knees have turned to ashes and my limbs have crumbled away. Soon I will not be able to speak. Strangely, the moonlight dazzles my eyes.

 --Ah!

 The last. I thought I heard the voice of Philos-Treit. A mournful voice, as if crying. It's not so bad.

 Lips open. I can't see his eyes anymore.

"Lugis. A last and most humble request. Thank Philos-Treit. And--

 I couldn't see anything anymore, but I knew he was nodding somewhere. Then there was nothing more to say. I've lived my whole life. I have no regrets. At best, I have a few complaints. So small. And too much complaining for my own good.

 Oh, I wish.

"I wish, Lugis. I wish I'd met you back when you still believed in justice. We could have been good friends... then, hero.



 Leaving only that, Roseau's body and soul turned to ashes and disappeared. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


 I'm not sure what to say.


 In the house of the Fomor family of the Kingdom of Garleist, the current head of the Fomor family, Reumetz-Fomor, leaned his huge body slightly and followed the words of the report. After a while, he looked up with distorted eyes.

 Then, without saying a word to anyone, he muttered.

"He's retreated. That scoundrel.

 He did not dare to use the word "defeated". He did not use the word "defeated" because for the vicious hero Richard Permiris, the only true defeat would be his own death.

 But even so, it was clear that he had been taken back a few steps by the heraldry.

 Leumetz leaned back in his chair, which was quite small compared to his own body, and let his eyes wander. He seemed to be trying to sort out the emotions that should be in his mind.

 To tell the truth, this news came as a great shock to Reumetz. It had never occurred to him that Richard would be forced to retreat. It was not so much optimism as an unshakable faith in Richard that resided within Reumetz.

 When he was still a young man, Reumetz remembered going into battle as the next head of the Fomor family. Of course, he was not allowed to go to the front lines, but he certainly saw the scene where lives were being sold at close quarters.

 Yes, I was in that battlefield. Richard, who was still walking in the sunshine with the title of "hero" on his chest. The emotions I felt when I met him that day are still with me to this day.

 So this is what it means to be a brave man.

 When he swung his great sword, the enemy army split open, and when he shouted, the whole army responded. He does not retreat, he does not even know how to stand still. He is what you would call a thunderbolt. I couldn't even imagine him being defeated.

 Time has passed, and Richard has indeed grown old. Like himself, he may no longer be in his prime. But he's still a strong man. There was no way he was going to fall behind.

 If he's forced to retreat, it's not because he's weak. The heraldry is the same strength.

 A thick finger strokes the tip of his nose. That was Reumetz's habit when he was thinking. His huge frame tilted, wondering what to do now.

 The defeat of the army that bears the name of the cathedral is not in itself a big problem. In fact, it should be welcomed.

 After all, the churches have become too powerful lately. A setback or two would be welcome, if it would make them a little more docile. Religion is just a tool of governance, and it is no fun for a tool to assert itself too much. It would be better if the tools were just quietly chanting their doctrines.

 However, it is also a problem when a tool does not fulfill its role as a tool. The teachings of the cathedral are more useful to the rulers than anything else.

 --I believe the saint is still on pilgrimage.

 A large hand took a pen made of eagle feathers. History is about to make another scar on its body.