Chapter 103
Craine was being transported.
In a carriage made of iron bars, he was bound and heading down the path of death.
Clatter, clatter.
The sound of wheels rolling on the paved road, the clopping of hooves from the horses, and the angry shouts of the people echoed around him.
Even as citizens spat at him and blood ran down his eyes, Craine didn’t care.
Guided down this road to the afterlife, he thought to himself.
He wanted to see the sky, but it was blocked by that black ceiling. It’s all blurry and has a hint of desolation.
“……”
He also had a childhood once.
From a young age, he loved monsters; he was fascinated by their very existence.
They were different from animals and distinct from humans.
He had some talent and interest in magic, but it paled in comparison to his love for monsters.
Naturally, it led him to take an interest in Familiar Magic and making contracts with them.
When he bonded with his first monster and became a Familiar, he was truly happy. It was a little monster resembling a puppy, and he trained it with great dedication.
Right, he even gave it a name.
A name… a name… he can’t remember.
Not just the name, but its appearance is hard to recall as well. He had cherished that creature for a long time.
He had made the contract when he was 7 and had it until he was 31… That really was a long time. Such a cute little creature.
…But why did it have to die?
Ah, right.
It had been used as “the material for the first experiment.”
There was a reason for that experiment.
“Glashalabolas… In the end, you are nothing more than a cheap imitation.”
Ever since he saw that Archbishop.
After witnessing that beautiful and harmonious being.
He had often been told by those around him that he had changed.
His desire for Frikkanrisk was just a reflection born from witnessing him.
He wanted to make Glashalabolas his own, but that was impossible.
He couldn’t handle the Altife, and besides, he was an archbishop—uniquely not a sentient being among those of archbishop rank.
Just a beast devoted to instinct.
Strangely enough, even with the title of Archbishop, he received no particular commands, nor did he give any.
He simply wandered the world as a slacker and a destroyer, living life as he wished.
His only driving force was hunger and murder.
A beast born only to kill humans: Glashalabolas.
He sometimes ate Priest-level Altife as his staple, and whenever he put something in his mouth, it became part of his body, enhancing him.
All that came to mind was “Enhanced. Or evolved.”
By simply consuming a target, he absorbed its abilities and underwent transformations.
…He was captivated by that bizarre and mysterious life form.
If he couldn’t have it, he wanted to create it himself. Hence, he immersed himself in Fusion Spells.
“…In the end, it was a failure.”
He could merge two familiars in a double fusion. However, for triple fusion, mere interest wasn’t enough.
That realm required talent.
Overwhelming talent!
He needed that, but unfortunately, he didn’t possess it.
Even though he seemed more equipped than others, it still fell short.
Thus, he even went to the hero who achieved triple fusion, bowing his head to learn, but it ended in failure.
He received teachings but couldn’t reach the goal.
Beyond this point lay the realm of talent.
It was because it was the realm of abilities.
A truly sad reality.
‘…Now that I think about it, my interest in Vargan must have stemmed from this reason. If that’s the case, I’ll reach it someday.’
And it must have been around the time when I was fully absorbed in fusion.
The first Familiar, a puppy, began to fall ill.
It became clear it wouldn’t be long before it would die. The cause was unknown, but death was its fate.
I was saddened by its impending demise, but at the same time, it was a turning point for thought. I could think differently.
After all, if it was a life destined to die.
If it was a life that was going to extinguish anyway.
Isn’t it the purpose of a Familiar to be devoted to its master until the very end?
Haven’t I shown enough affection until now?
Haha….
Whether I wanted to think that way or really believed it, I ended up using that puppy as research material for a new form of fusion.
Since I couldn’t do it in the proper way, I decided to use a trick.
…From that moment on, the research that has been going on has brought us here.
The pain of discarding a precious Familiar was brief, and gradually, they seemed more like objects or tools rather than beings with life.
In the end, even though I did that, I couldn’t achieve completion.
Ah, still.
If I had obtained Frikkanrisk, perhaps I might have reached it.
Now, looking back, I still don’t know what the voice I heard inside me after seeing her was, but it seems like it did touch on desire.
I blurted out something strange to Vargan for no reason. It wasn’t me.
No… Wait. Isn’t it that I didn’t want to do it?
I don’t know. There’s no need to think about it anymore.
Clunk⎯.
The surroundings came to a halt.
As I adjusted my blurry focus, it wasn’t Dortmund. I thought executions would happen in the square after the war ended, but seemingly not.
This place was the snowy mountains near Dortmund.
The mountains were surrounded by thick, white snow, halfway up.
It’s a strange landscape.
Everything around was blank and white.
Creeeak. The door of the cage that had been closed opened, and Craine was roughly thrown out.
The people from the Church, looking at Craine, who was buried helplessly in the snow, exchanged a few words and then turned away.
Recombining what they said made it sound like they cursed.
“Just die already.”
“Fucking bastard.”
It doesn’t matter.
“……”
The thick snow is soft but cold. So I raised my face to look ahead.
Someone was approaching.
A woman with long water-colored hair.
The woman’s face was colder than the snow beneath and hotter than molten metal.
It was contradictory, but that’s how it seemed.
“Frikkanrisk….”
I called out her second name. My throat was dry, so it came out raspy, but it seemed to convey my words.
“Aintern, you see, considered you a comrade.”
Her lips trembled.
I couldn’t tell if it was a reaction from anger or sadness.
I couldn’t distinguish.
“My husband… Aintern called someone like you a friend.”
Aintern.
A name I miss.
He was a good person. I only saw him through the haze of jealousy, but even objectively, he was a kind man.
…A comrade.
A friend.
“I thought of him that way too.”
The snowfall intensified.
What had started as light flurries was now enough to cover the surrounding landscape.
The gentle wind had turned into one that messed up my hair.
Craine parted his cracked lips.
“I regarded Aintern as a comrade and treated him as a friend.”
Then.
“Do not call Aintern with that filthy mouth⎯⎯!”
The climate around reflected her emotions.
Thick, white clouds loomed above, thicker than the snow on the ground, and biting winds gnawed at my skin.
“Aintern… my husband… the Hero of Dortmund… he was kind enough to embrace even trash like you… and he was considerate….”
Frikkanrisk’s mouth opened to continue.
What came from within her was a voice that, despite being cold, was mixed with a weeping sound.
“He bravely fought against enemies… a reliable Hero who protected people… the husband whose smile was so beautiful that I never got tired of looking at it each day… a man who truly loved and cherished me, our child, our village, and the people… that kind of man.”
“My husband, who is so handsome when he smiles that I never tire of looking at him every day, truly loved and cherished me, our child, and even the village and its people… he was that kind of man.”
“…….”
“I have no more curiosity about why you killed him. I don’t want to know your filthy desires any longer, and I don’t want to hear his name come out of your mouth!”
Frikkanrisk’s emotions were intensifying.
Snow piled up on Craine’s body, and his feet were sinking into it. He tried to wriggle a bit but was frozen in place, unable to move.
“You killed my precious person. The only person I truly love… you kidnapped my child, the proof of our bond. That reason alone is enough.”
Frikkanrisk’s feet carefully walked over the snow, as if forgetting her weight, and her steps reflected on the surface without sinking.
Craine raised his head and locked eyes with her. Even with the eyes of a woman steeped in tragedy, she felt beautiful.
“If I had to be killed, I would have preferred it to be by Glashalabolas. But meeting my end at your hands wouldn’t be too bad either.”
Frikkanrisk’s voice was devoid of color. The moisture that had been there moments ago seemed to freeze.
She conveyed Craine’s fate.
“No, you will not die.”
Her snow-white hand touched Craine’s forehead.
A complex form of magic unfolded, and the mana scattered around converged at the tip of her fingers.
Craine was puzzled.
“You say I won’t die… then…”
“If you die, you would encounter Aintern in the afterlife we’ll share together. So I won’t kill you.”
Frikkanrisk’s fingertips were at an absolute low temperature, akin to absolute zero. Yet, Craine did not die. There was no sign of anything wrong.
As he watched the limits of her magic unfold.
He felt the chill reach his lungs, a sigh escaped him, and he closed his eyes.
“… so that’s how it is.”
Craine’s body began to freeze.
It was different from merely becoming a piece of ice. His exterior showed no change.
As if a transformation was happening from within, his very nature began to shift.
His hands and feet could not move first.
He couldn’t even turn his head.
He couldn’t open his mouth, either.
He was unable to deliver some grand final words.
His last sense of hearing alive was filled with Frikkanrisk’s resentment. That was the last sensation he would embrace from this world.
“I will have to live for 500 years, no, even far longer than that. How long can I keep my sanity in that dark world?”
She spoke.
Filled with deep anger.
“You will live your life. Unable to see anything, unable to feel anything, forever existing in that world alone. You will be trapped in a purgatory from which you cannot escape, even if your mind breaks, without ever touching another world.”
That was the harshest possible punishment and revenge she could deliver, more so than death itself.
“You will never die. You will become immortal! The moment your suffering ends is when this world meets its end. At that time, I will allow you to die.”
Finally, even her voice faded away, and his thoughts were severed from the current world.
He thought for one last time.
“Indeed… that sounds quite painful.”
At last, the magic concluded.
His body came to a complete stop.
“……”
He disappeared. Just like that, in such a simple manner.
Craine’s spirit was no longer in this world. His body surely existed, but it felt as if he was trapped in a world of his own.
“…huh, huff.”
Frikkanrisk sank down to the ground.
She did not feel joy at successfully eliminating one of her targets for revenge.
Instead, she struggled for breath, sobbing tears.
It was also because the magic consumed an excessive amount of mana, putting a strain on her body.
“Aintern… my husband…”
Their story with him had already ended in tragedy.
The happy story she had thought would unfold with him and their child.
“Just wait a little longer. Until our child grows up… just a short nap will do…”
Now it was just the two of them.
Only she and the child were meant to carry on.
“Now, we have to go.”
“I’ll follow soon…”
The sorrow of knowing he wouldn’t be there for the rest of her life washed over her again.
“Do you understand…? Huh?”
Finally managing to speak properly to Aintern, she gasped as tears streamed down her face.
It was as if she wanted to expel everything.
The tears she had been holding back forcibly burst forth like a dam that had broken, overwhelming her.
For not being able to protect him.
For not being able to embrace what he wanted to protect.
For not being able to love the things he loved…
For various reasons, she finally got to mourn Aintern.
Though no one had directly permitted her, she felt it that way. The chains she had tightly bound herself with loosened.
It felt as if a portion of the massive boulder crushing her fell away, finally allowing her to move.
For her husband, who had gone far ahead of her.
She mourned Aintern desperately and sorrowfully.
…
There is an old tale that has been passed down.
When the dragon Frikkanrisk, who presides over winter and has made the northern part of the Troa Empire its territory, gets angry, avalanches occur on the snowy mountains of Dortmund, and when it sheds tears of sadness, hail falls.
Though she was neither in the cabin she had shared with Aintern nor in the nearby village,
she felt that Aintern was closest to her in a long time.
Swoosh.
The wind blew, burning white snow.
The cool breeze wrapped around her.
She briefly distanced herself from the impending scent and sound of war and waited for her tears to stop.
Meanwhile, the surroundings changed.
Before she knew it, the snow had stopped, and the clouds scattered.
In the meantime, a familiar face appeared.
It was the long-awaited summer sunshine of Dortmund.
*
A few clerics from Dortmund brought Frikkanrisk’s son back to her.
The child of a divine beast and a human has a somewhat peculiar appearance.
However, the eyes that cannot reflect everything do not stem from genetics but from violence and oppression.
She embraced the child after a long time, gently patting his head. Hot tears flowed down as she repeatedly apologized.
The child seemed to vaguely recognize who she was, but still could not show any emotions. This fact only deepened her pain.
…
Vargan was the last to visit Frikkanrisk.
He didn’t particularly want to see Klein die, and it was only after her emotions were sorted that he could engage in a deal without fallout.
“I have now accepted your two proposals.”
Klein and her child.
Having granted everything Frikkanrisk desired, Vargan wanted something in return.
“My participation in this war comes with a condition for your protection. What I aim to gain through you is not such trivial matters.”
Vargan did not seek to gain power through a direct contract with Frikkanrisk.
Even though the ability to read the thoughts of all beings, except Altife, was tempting, he showed no interest.
“You must assist in the ‘large-scale war that will dwarf this one’ in the future. You are aware of that, right?”
“…I know. But, human, you also remember that if the place you provided tries to harm my child, I will terminate the contract based on the treaty and kill you.”
“You can’t possibly be unaware of my proposal. You need not worry.”
Frikkanrisk used the power of her eyes to confirm Vargan’s psychology in real time. Even though they had made a contract, trust was a separate issue.
Frikkanrisk asked with her unyielding gaze:
“Where is it that we are going?”
Then, a small village in the mountain valley flashed in Vargan’s mind. A very quiet and peaceful place, far removed from the outside world.
Vargan spoke.
“The place where you will live is the secret dungeon in Rubid Village.”
He prepared meticulously, as if gathering his cherished belongings.
