Elliott breathed shallowly, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him.
Amidst the arena, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Flora atop a bizarre carriage. However, the carriage suddenly tipped over, likely propelled by the Undead Slime, as the floorboards beneath it buckled violently.
He clenched his jaw, gripping his hands so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. Perhaps it was due to having been engulfed by the Undead’s viscous slime that his body felt weak and unresponsive, save for his upper body. Even the counterfeit sword he wielded had melted away, leaving him without any means to fight back. As he now found himself worrying about Flora’s safety, a voice within him berated his own cowardice.
—It was I who pushed Flora away, who abandoned her…
The words he had once spoken to her, the ugly thoughts that had lingered in his heart, echoed in his mind like a curse, rising and falling in a relentless cycle. The image of his past self, laid bare before him, was nothing short of grotesque.
He had thrust the Divorce Papers at her, carelessly declaring that his troubles were resolved, and had paid no heed when he heard she had vanished from the Royal Capital. He hadn’t even considered the dangers she might face on her journey.
The distance to the carriage was considerable, obscured by obstacles, making it impossible to discern what was truly happening. Was it truly only the slime’s viscous grip that rendered his body immobile? Or was it that he could not face the ugly truth of himself, that regret had ensnared his heart, leaving him paralyzed? The voice that condemned him would not cease.
Soon, a soft light began to spread from the vicinity of the overturned carriage. Moments later, it righted itself and began to approach.
“Thank goodness, it seems they’re safe. The knights of Beresford are with them. They must have come to help…” Kevin exhaled in relief, murmuring to himself. He then explained to Elliott why they had come. He spoke of an obligation as an old friend and of a request from Crown Prince Alexis.
From the faint words he had heard earlier from Dylan Agreas Jiemeld, it was clear he had been used by that man, and there was no room for doubt. In the wake of his mistakes and lies, he had become a foolish jester. He looked down, suppressing the rising nausea born from self-loathing.
“The prince said that no matter what sins you bear, the fact that you fought on the front lines for the country for a year cannot be erased. So, don’t let yourself die. Well, even if you think it would be better for you to die now, I won’t let that happen.”
Kevin spoke while gazing into the distance.
Leaning against the wall for support, Lloyd, who had been silently listening, suddenly gasped.
“Is that… the Holy Sword…?”
As Elliott lifted his gaze, he saw the knights of Beresford at the forefront of the approaching group, each wielding swords that glimmered faintly. Even the sturdy men pulling the carriage, who at first glance appeared to be ruffians, held glowing clubs.
Elliott felt a wave of misery wash over him, almost choking back a sob.
What he had lost, what he longed to reclaim, what he had deceived himself about, what had ensnared him—these were the things that haunted him. Perhaps they were the reasons he had become so twisted, or perhaps they were the miracles that had once been within his grasp. He was already aware that holding the Holy Sword had distorted him, yet without its appearance, he would have met a gruesome end in that forest. The despair of his current situation, the thirst that had existed just moments ago, and the hope that might once again save them all intertwined, stirring his emotions into chaos.
He saw the Clergy approaching, preparing to cast a Barrier, and both Kevin and Lloyd exhaled in relief.
The carriage and the group of knights charged straight into the Barrier. Looking through the skylight was indeed Flora. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she smiled faintly, relief washing over her. Yet, that smile was tinged with a painful struggle, as if she were enduring great suffering.
It pained him to think that he was the one who had caused her to wear such an expression, and yet Flora still seemed to worry for him, despite how he had treated her. How could he have forgotten that about her? The guilt piled upon him once more, tightening his chest.
As the carriage came to a halt nearby, the first to leap out was Chelsea, Kevin’s beloved.
“Kevin…!!”
“Chelsea!? What are you doing here…!?”
Behind the embracing couple stood unfamiliar elderly figures. It seemed there were injured among them, and the Clergy had begun to tend to them. And there, further back, stood Flora.
He felt an overwhelming urge to rise and apologize for everything he had done in the past. Yet, he found himself unable to move or even speak.
Flora was inexplicably draped in vibrant ivy leaves, and she appeared to glow softly. It was as if she embodied another truth that Elliott had been too afraid to confront.
In truth, he realized he had likely known for quite some time. From the moment he had seen that broken sword. From the moment he recalled the day he had received that sword. Bit by bit, the truth had settled deep within his thoughts.
—I could not face my great mistake, and I… fled into falsehood.
The more he became aware of it, the greater his regret grew.
Before he could exchange any words, the surrounding chaos escalated. Outside the Barrier, the knights of Beresford and those ruffian-like men—who appeared to be mercenaries—were engaged in battle with the Undead Slime.
From the crowd, he saw a dazzling light moving.
“What is that… a Battle Axe…? But that light…”
Lloyd stood up, muttering, yet lost for further words. Kevin stood frozen, eyes wide in astonishment.
With the help of the Clergy who had come to heal him, Elliott managed to rise, and the scene outside the Barrier came into focus.
A stranger wielding a radiant Battle Axe fought valiantly. Lightning danced along the blade, obliterating everything in its path with a single strike. The sheer ferocity of it sent chills down his spine.
In the days when he had fought on the northern battlefields, even the Holy Sword he had once wielded had never shone with such brilliance.