"Why, have you never felt like that? Dreading the arrival of morning."
The forge. Kellibey's workshop.
Hannibal had been infusing a spirit into the equipment when he suddenly blurted out such words.
Beside him, Kellibey, who had been enchanting the equipment with magic, looked over at his little assistant, wondering what he was talking about.
"Because I don't want to leave the warmth of my bed. Because I don't want to go to work. Because I just want to lie around all day and sleep. Wishing that morning would never come, that I could stay in bed for about a week."
"You've thought about that, you rascal..."
"Hehe. Honestly, hasn't everyone thought this at least once or twice? No? Is it just me?"
Wishing that morning would never come.
Wishing that the world would just end.
While living through the cruel reality, many people have imagined such scenarios at least once.But no matter how much one prays under the covers, the sun inevitably rises, and the world brightens...
Hannibal looked up and gazed at the dark sky outside the forge.
Even though it was around noon, the sky was exceedingly dark, with only a blurry silhouette of the sun trembling beyond a curtain of undulating darkness.
"But to think that the morning really doesn't come, and the world is actually ending... It's unbelievable, really."
"..."
Watching his assistant's stunned expression, Kellibey made a gesture with his chin.
"How old are you again? You've lied so much about your age, even I'm confused."
"Me? I'm exactly fourteen now."
"To see the end of the world at fourteen..."
A clicking sound came from the mouth of the old dwarf.
"Instead of working like this, shouldn't you be out playing somewhere?"
"It's completely dark outside, where would I go to play? Besides, who knows? Maybe one of the spirits I've enchanted will play a crucial role in saving the world?"
"Oh, such grand nonsense."
Kellibey grumbled and then noticed a customer approaching the entrance of the workshop, snorting disdainfully.
"Hey, your dad's here again. Go eat lunch and come back."
Hannibal, startled, looked toward the entrance of the forge where Zenis awkwardly stood, smiling sheepishly while waving. In his other hand, he held a basket with lunch.
"My son always causes trouble..."
Then, the woman priest who had come with Zenis—Rosetta—scolded him.
"Why are you so nervous? Want to earn more heretic points again? Stand tall and speak your mind!"
"Well, then... Ahem! Listen! This forge doesn't function properly without our son! We're going to feed him now, so you all better understand that! Any complaints?!"
In front of his overbearing father's roar, Hannibal covered his face with both hands.
"Augh, Father really is too much..."
Kellibey couldn't help but laugh heartily.
"That's still good, right?"
"..."
Awkwardly twisting his body, Hannibal nonetheless grinned and removed his work gloves.
"Then I'll go have lunch, please eat as well, Master!"
"Alright, have a good meal."
Hastily wiping the sweat on his face with a towel, Hannibal hurriedly ran to the two priests.
The three of them chatted amiably as they left the forge, Kellibey silently watching them go.
"..."
The image of his deceased son seemed to overlap with the shadows of the cheerful trio.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Kellibey shouted into the forge.
"Let's all eat lunch too! Take a break!"
"Yes-!"
The blacksmiths, eagerly awaiting lunchtime, responded in unison.
Even as the end of the world approached, and they busied themselves preparing equipment for the final battle, it was essential to eat and rest properly to maintain efficiency.
Lunchboxes were distributed by the Silver Winter Merchant Guild. Kellibey picked up his sandwich but couldn't bring himself to eat. He had no appetite.
‘Kellison...’
Still, the apparition of his dead son lingered before his eyes, refusing to fade away.
‘Wait for me. I’ll join this final battle too.’
If the opponent was the King of all monsters.
No matter what, he was determined to strike a blow with his own hands, with his hammer and spirit.
Even if it didn’t serve as a requiem for his dead son, even if it only cleared the cobwebs in his mind, it didn’t matter.
The hatred and frustration that wouldn’t disappear just by hammering equipment were gradually growing within him.
Before it swelled enough to burst him, Kellibey decided to charge toward the enemy leader.
‘Whether I die or live, this battle will decide it all.’
If death brings peace, then that would be a decent ending in its own right.
Even though he had no appetite, Kellibey tried to muster the energy to eat the sandwich when...
"Kellibey! There's trouble!"
A dwarf came running in from outside, exclaiming loudly.
"The airship... The wreckage of Geronimo has been found!"
"...!"
"It was found far south from the epicenter of the Southern Plains! It seems it was blown away by the explosion. They are now recovering it and bringing it to Crossroad..."
Geronimo.
A long time ago, Kellibey had personally built this airship, which served as the flagship of the World Guardian Front, carrying the corpse of the Goblin God-King intended for a kamikaze attack... the airship Kellison had piloted until the very end.
Kellibey threw the sandwich on the ground and ran out of the forge.
The recovered wreckage of Geronimo was already being brought into the city of Crossroad on a cart. Kellibey stood in front of the cart with trembling legs.
Most of the wreckage was meaningless fragments and pieces, but one part retained its complete form.
The figurehead shaped like a siren, installed at the prow of the ship. [Unbreakable Myth].
An artifact and Nightmare Slayer cast from the magical core of Bernardt Poker, the eighth-ranking commander of the Nightmare Legion and the ghost fleet captain.
This was the only piece that, due to its unique property—'Unbreakable'—maintained its original form even amidst the tremendous explosion.
Including part of the bow that was within the area of effect.
"..."
Kellibey touched the remnants of the ship, which was like a child to him, with trembling hands, while thinking of the child who had been aboard.
He had thought it had vanished without a trace.
To think it remained.
- In this front, in this world, we still need you, Father.
Suddenly, the last voice Kellison had left echoed in his mind.
- Survive. And please take care of our race... no, this world.
Kellibey's strong hand gripped [Unbreakable Myth] tightly.
"...Why return now of all times."
Kellibey closed his eyes tightly.
"It makes me weak, damn it..."
The old dwarf blacksmith's emotions took a while to settle, watched over with concerned looks by a mix of human and dwarf blacksmiths.
***
After officially joining the World Guardian Front, Verdandi, leader of the Holy Grail Seekers, began living in Crossroad.
But after her sister, Queen Skuld, died, Verdandi found staying in Crossroad uncomfortable.
Living in this city where her sister died was distressing, like sitting on pins and needles.
So, Verdandi stayed alone in a former dwelling prepared in the dungeon below the lake.
Today was no different. After training with her companions in Crossroad, Verdandi returned alone to the hideout in the dungeon.
The space between sectors 5 and 6 where the sewers connected. In this place, where a stream of water leaked from a broken pipe and seeped into the shattered stone wall.
In this narrow passage, where clear water rarely flowed in the dungeon, unnamed grasses and mosses were abundantly sprouting.
Next to the watercourse, there was a small patch of dirt. Verdandi carelessly sat next to it.
And with sunken golden eyes, she stared into the void... coldly honing the hatred burning within her.
After Skuld's death, Verdandi became noticeably less talkative. Her expressions of emotion also gradually disappeared.
She wanted to become a single dagger. She wanted to become a very sharp blade.
For the impending final battle with the Black Dragon.
And to exterminate every last one of those hateful monsters...
Verdandi took out the dagger [Isagum] from her bosom and glared at it. From the dagger, made from the tooth of an enemy, a black aura was rippling.
Sssss...
The aura escaped from the dagger, climbed up her arm, and burrowed into her body. Verdandi did not stop it.
To kill darkness, one needs to get close to the darkness.
It was just a part of the process...
"...?"
That was when Verdandi's eyes widened slightly. Her gaze was directed toward the patch of dirt next to the watercourse.
"Huh?"
With a bewildered sound, Verdandi carelessly sheathed the dagger. The darkness that had been seeping out was also sucked back into the sheath.
Verdandi hurriedly approached the patch of dirt on her knees.
This patch of dirt had been cultivated over the past hundred years while exploring the dungeon for the Holy Grail.
As if unable to give up on the elusive Holy Grail, just as one plants seeds waiting for sprouts that never grow, it was a place of such persistence.
Even knowing there was no hope, I continued to plant seeds, knowing that sprouts would not emerge. It was the embodiment of such foolish persistence.
And then, in that patch of dirt-
"...A sprout?"
Tiny, delicate sprouts were pushing through, their pale green shoots emerging.
The last thing planted were the sunflower seeds given by Ash. It had been almost two years ago, and now the seeds were sprouting?
'Now, after all this time? Why? How?'
Suddenly, a possibility flashed through Verdandi's mind.
"...!"
Leaping to her feet, Verdandi ran desperately.
After entering the base camp, she teleported to Crossroad and raced through the city shrouded in the darkness of broad daylight—
She arrived at the nearly restored South Gate, gasping for breath.
"Ha, ha, ha...!"
What Verdandi was looking down at was the very spot where her sister Skuld had died.
Her sister had summoned the roots and trunk of the World Tree and died becoming one with the tree, and only the stump of the dead tree remained where her body had been cut down.
At that tree stump... there it was again.
A bright green sprout.
"Ah...!"
With a sigh filled with emotion, Verdandi knelt in front of the stump.
Skuld had sacrificed her entire life to summon the roots of the World Tree, scattering its immense life force throughout the entire southern continent.
That influence had spread and reached even beneath the lake, causing the seeds that had not moved for years to sprout.
And here at this stump as well.
Even from the tree where the Elven Queen herself had fallen and died, robust life was pushing forth sprouts.
Even in a world where the sun does not rise. Even as winter approaches.
"Why?"
As the cold wind blew, she instinctively reached out to cover the sprout, and Verdandi murmured softly.
"Why...?"
Why does it strive to live like this? Why does it try to survive like this?
It is unknowable.
Because life is impermanent. Because nature is indifferent.
As if embracing the stump with her body, Verdandi murmured with a choked voice.
"You were really terrible, Skuld..."
The sprouts that emerged at the spot where her sister died and those that sprouted in the abandoned patch in the dungeon.
Verdandi would nurture them. She would ensure they grew fully. Because they were the last legacy left by Skuld.
And, to do that...
Verdandi herself must also live.
"Really... you were terrible..."
Emotion, long absent, vividly returned to Verdandi's face.
Mostly it was sorrow.
But there was a slight relief as well.
***
Swoosh!
A massive silver fist cut through the air.
In the training grounds of the barracks, Kuilan was practicing alone.
Under the dark sky, his silver fist streaked through the air, spreading a faint glow like a light aura.
To others, it might seem like a solo practice, but in reality, Kuilan was not in a situation to be at ease.
"Is that all you got, 44th?"
"..."
Illusions of werewolves made of darkness attacked Kuilan from all directions.
Kuilan scattered punches and kicks into the air, fending off the illusions.
"With that level of murderous intent! With that level of fighting spirit! What do you think you can kill? Is that all your hatred amounts to?!"
The illusions shouted as they surged from all around. Kuilan clenched his teeth.
‘If talking big won, our ancestor might as well have been the Demon King...’
The Nightmare Slayer made from the magical core of Lunared the Wolf King, [Full Moon's Massacrer].
Whenever there was a crisis, this damned cloak whispered in his mind. To surrender his body to it. Then, it would take care of the situation for him.
He had ignored it all along, but the situation had been too critical during the last encounter with the Goblin God-King, and he had reluctantly reached out his hand.
In exchange for borrowing its power, the cloak had clung to Kuilan's body... and ever since then, these illusions had been harassing him like this.
Their purpose was singular.
"Your flesh is perfect now. So hand it over to me! I can make much better use of it than you!"
"..."
"Then I'll blow away the Black Dragon and whatever else! It wouldn’t be a bad deal for you, right?"
Maybe, just maybe, it was true. If he surrendered his body to this nightmare, he might be able to land a clean hit on the Black Dragon.
The problem is that this nightmare doesn't only intend to attack the Black Dragon. It would undoubtedly strike at the same allies as well.
Not only that, it might even try to destroy humanity, just as Lunared the Wolf King had originally intended.
Ultimately, whether this creature or the Black Dragon, both were enemies of the world.
'So far, I have managed to hold on...'
Gradually, the frequency and intensity of the illusions' attacks were increasing. Fending off each illusion, Kuilan felt increasingly drained.
'How much longer can I last?'
A few more days? Or perhaps months?
Whenever it happened, Kuilan was determined to confront this battle before his body was taken over by the leather cloak... and the nightmare sleeping within it.
To subdue the nightmare and make it entirely his own, or else.
'To end my life before it completely takes over.'
Whoosh-!
After sending the last attacking illusion flying with a back kick.
Kuilan steadied his ragged breathing and adjusted his stance. Wisps of pale steam rose from his muscular back.
'...My fists are gradually taking the same form as the illusions.'
Fighting the illusions, Kuilan's fists were reverting to their original form of primitive and violent boxing.
Though he hated to admit it, his immediate power was increasing. And what was needed in the fight against the Black Dragon was precisely this immediate power.
"..."
As Kuilan sighed deeply and steadied his breath.
"Captain!"
A subordinate from the Penal Squad rushed in breathlessly.
Turning in surprise, Kuilan listened as the subordinate exclaimed urgently.
"Sir, Princess Yun... Princess Yun has regained consciousness!"
--TL Notes--
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you want to support me or give me feedback, you can do it at /MattReading