Chapter 54: Regret of That Day, Repetition of That Day (E)

“So… you’re saying that Laferon wasn’t kidnapped or missing, but rather went to Duke Rosell. And all the records are stored in the pendant.”

“…Yes.”

Hearing the full story from Biella, Dalton’s expression grew heavy and dark.

It was hard to believe.

That bastard Rosell had foreseen this situation better than the saintess and had prepared thoroughly in advance.

“Even buying Emilia wasn’t a coincidence, then.”

The bastard, who had already been an eyesore, now seemed intent on standing in his way and provoking him directly.

A damned commoner had the audacity to block his path.

Dalton clenched his teeth.

“Buying Emilia, spiriting away Laferon, and recording everything from the expedition… This is clearly either an act of rebellion or heresy, wouldn’t you say?”

“What? H-Heresy? Why would it be rebellion…!?”

“You idiot! You bowed your head to a filthy commoner guilty of both rebellion and heresy, and you expect me to understand?”

Dalton clicked his tongue in disgust.

It was pathetic.

Even bowing her head wasn’t enough—Biella had come crawling back, asking him to bow as well.

“Shielding Emilia is a conspiracy of treason, and doubting the saintess’ prophecy and recording it is heresy. What does that make this commoner? A heinous villain aiming to overthrow the kingdom?”

“What? No! How did the story even get to this point?!”

Smack!

Just like the first day he’d received the letter, Dalton slapped Biella across the face again.

Her cheek swelled instantly.

And with it came a flashback—to the reason she’d been slapped at the campsite that day.

“This truth… Only you, me, and those three know about it, right?”

“…Yes, yes…”

“Tsk, do I have to handle this myself? What good is that vaunted archery of yours if you’re this useless?”

“What? No, we should beg for forgiveness and set things right immediately—!”

Smack!

Smack!

“Kyaa! Kyaa!”

Dalton slapped her again, this time striking the other cheek with the back of his hand in quick succession.

It was an act unimaginable from someone who had shared life and death as comrades.

He treated the count’s daughter as if she were a passing commoner, subjecting her to merciless violence.

His obsession with power had consumed him entirely.

He was the duke of Elond, a rising kingdom garnering the continent’s attention.

Wherever he went, people bowed their heads.

Even the marquises and counts who had looked down on him in his baron days now dared not utter a single word against him.

Rumors about his arrogance, joking that his sharp nose could poke the god’s backside, weren’t spreading through society for nothing.

Dalton was the epitome of the saying, “Power shapes the person.”

As if to take revenge for the humiliation of his baron days, he stormed into the estates of nearby nobles upon becoming a duke, throwing his weight around and reveling in his newfound authority.

Oddly, though, he would never go beyond slapping his own people.

He never inflicted more degrading acts upon them.

That was why Biella faced only slaps and nothing worse.

Clutching her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, Biella glared at Dalton.

“What… what on earth are you doing?!”

“Shut your filthy mouth, Biella. Being so stupid is exactly why you’re reduced to groveling as a mere countess.”

Dalton rebuked her and rose from his seat.

“Whether it’s cowardice or sheer stupidity, I don’t know. But when faced with a cause this righteous, begging for forgiveness only makes you a coward.”

“We… we did wrong…!”

Whoosh!

Dalton raised his arm again, and Biella, eyes tightly shut, flinched and curled up in fear.

Dalton sneered bitterly.

“The mistake was Emilia being born to such a fate, Biella. Do you still not see that?”

Biella’s gaze dropped, her eyes losing focus as despair filled them.

After two sleepless days of traveling, she was utterly exhausted, disheartened by Dalton’s unyielding and twisted mindset.

Of course, she didn’t entirely blame him.

Just two days ago, she had been no different from him.

Though she had yielded under the weight of the evidence and Laferon’s appearance, it was only after apologizing to Emilia that her heart had felt somewhat lighter.

Running away from her fall, hiding her guilt, and deliberately condemning Emilia had been her way of coping.

But once she faced her and apologized, she had found peace of mind.

Though Emilia hadn’t forgiven her, facing her sins instead of fleeing from them brought a surprising sense of relief.

That was why she had come all this way.

She hoped that Dalton might feel even the slightest guilt and apologize, finding liberation.

But it seemed she had been gravely mistaken.

Dalton felt no remorse for the betrayal he had committed in the name of survival and his family’s revival.

“The bravery you had as part of the hero’s party, where has it gone, Biella?”

He dared to mock her while speaking of bravery.

She couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly.

It was so absurd that it made her laugh.

“…What’s so funny, Biella?”

“You’re right. I’ve forgotten all about bravery. I threw it away the moment I betrayed Emilia.”

“As I’ve said countless times, what we did wasn’t betrayal but compliance with destiny—as subjects of the kingdom, as children of the divine.”

There was truth in his words.

Who would defy absolute prophecy and a king’s decree? Especially with the kingdom’s resurgence within reach.

Biella looked up at Dalton, her smile tinged with resignation.

“Destiny… it’s such a cruel thing, isn’t it?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You said we had plenty of justification, didn’t you? That justification is to bring down Rosell and his allies.”

“Exactly. Anyone protecting rebels or denying prophecy deserves punishment.”

Dalton wanted nothing more than to drag Rosell by the hair and throw him before the court.

But first, he needed to seize the record object Rosell possessed.

The contents of that pendant could spread unnecessary rumors among the nobility, potentially tarnishing his rising reputation.

He couldn’t afford that.

Biella stood up.

“I was foolish, Duke Dalton. I’ll go with you. May I add an arrow to this cause?”

“Ha, good. It seems you’ve finally come to your senses. Rosell is the kind of scum who’d exploit the king’s illness to overthrow the kingdom. We’ll save the kingdom again, Biella.”

The king, upon learning of Rosell’s treachery and heresy, would surely reward them.

Then, Dalton would rid himself of that troublesome commoner and secure his place at the king’s side.

Rosell was nothing more than a novice who barely knew how to handle a sword.

If they framed him with charges of denying prophecy and supporting rebellion, it would be enough to grab him by the throat.

With a sly smirk, Dalton raised the corner of his mouth and left the audience chamber.

“Let’s go. Lead the way to that Rosell.”

“Yes, Duke Dalton.”

Behind him, Biella followed, bowing her head.

Facing such arrogance, she realized something.

A person who betrays once can betray twice.

For someone corrupted by betrayal, the only way to atone is through another betrayal.

Her tangled thoughts converged into a single resolve.

Determined to bring Dalton before Duke Rosell and Emilia, Biella mounted her horse, gripping the reins tightly as she left the chamber.

If this was Dalton’s fate, she would assist him willingly.

As one sinner aiding another.

To help him atone for his foolishness.

And to seek forgiveness from Emilia.

[Heh, foolish creatures…]

“Ugh…”

[Did you really think I would be defeated so easily?]

[My ambition, my long-cherished wish—it is not over yet.]

“Ugh…”

[I will devour everything.]

“Hic…!”

[Everything will crumble and turn to ashes.]

“Urgh…”

[Flags will be torn, walls will collapse, and all beneath the shattered ramparts will be buried.]

“Ahh…!”

[It will be a tomb for the foolish, a cradle for those who hail me. Screams and cheers will fill the air.]

“Huff!”

[Laughter! The time is near!]

“Ugh…!”

[Elond Kingdom—I will utterly crush it. Ha ha ha!]

“Kyaaah!”

The saintess, Yuria, who had been lying on the cold stone floor, let out a scream as she jolted upright.

Thump, thump. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it would burst from the lingering terror.

Her back was drenched in cold sweat, soaking through her white sacred robes.

Her pale hair clung to her forehead and cheeks, damp with perspiration.

“Ha… ha…”

She had suffered through a horrible nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

Deprived of divine power, she no longer received the words of the divine.

It was merely the kind of nightmare a fragile human might have.

“What… what was that?”

But it felt too ominous and vivid to be dismissed as a fleeting dream.

Dreams often reflect the subconscious—fears, anxieties, and the pungent stench of death emanating from Brykal had likely shaped this nightmare.

“Ha…”

Yuria let out a deep sigh.

She hadn’t eaten properly for days, leaving her complexion gaunt.

Her eyes were sunken from lack of restful sleep.

Even so, she knelt down again, raising a prayer to the divine.

It was all she could do—utter foolish prayers.

For three hours, Yuria prayed.

When she opened her eyes again, a strange light flickered within her once-hollow gaze.

Unanswered prayers.

Meaningless devotion.

She had committed atrocities to survive, and she had lived because of them.

But now the king had fallen ill, and soon the regent, Akaron, would demand a test of her divine power.

When that happened, the life she had prolonged through heinous acts would come to a meaningless end.

Her sins would have been for naught.

She had fallen.

For survival.

But if she were to die now, there would be no justification for her fall.

Yes, someone who corrupts themselves to survive can only choose further corruption.

The rustle of her robes echoed as Yuria stood.

Her crumpled sacred garment smoothed out.

With a quiet motion, she loosened the straps of her robe, letting the sullied cloth slide off her shoulders.

She could no longer return to being a saintess or live a comfortable life.

For those who have fallen, only a wretched end remains.

And corruption knows no depth. She had become less than human—trash.

To survive, there was nothing she wouldn’t do.

Sitting idly in the tower, offering prayers that would never be answered, was an insult to human survival instincts.

It was no different from waiting foolishly for death.

If she had intended to wait for death, why had she fabricated false prophecies and enslaved the hero?

‘Yes, that’s right.’

With the king incapacitated, she now had to sustain herself.

No one would protect her.

No one would cut the noose tightening around her neck.

Tap, tap.

Yuria descended the spiral staircase of the tower.

Her place was no longer in this lofty spire.

For one who has fallen, the only path to survival is to flee from sin.

With her cloak wrapped tightly around her and her hood pulled low, Yuria began her descent to the lower floors of the tower.

Though Duvel had chosen conviction and atoned through death, that was only possible because of his great power.

A powerless, frail human lacks even the ability to choose conviction.

All they can do is flee further into the depths of ruin.