Lucion ran, then stopped.
The darkness was empty, unable to maintain its bond with Bethel, and it broke free.
But Lucion screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Cut...!"
The red thread that connected him to Heint was severed.
How long he had waited.
How desperately he had hoped for this day to come.
He could hardly contain the surge of joy.
But the joy was short-lived, and Hume quickly caught Lucion, who was about to collapse from the overwhelming dizziness.
-Lucion. Lucion.
Latta burst into tears, stepping out of the shadows and clutching the hem of Lucion's robe.
"...Do, Master."
Hume stammered, carefully removing the mask.
"I apologize, sir. I... I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful."
At the sight of Lucion's blood and the wounds on his body, Hume couldn't keep the tears from falling.
Why was he so weak to corruption.
How could he resent this body so much?
"...Ugh."
Lucion stopped moving and groaned, his nose dripping with blood.
[Stay still. Stay still.]
Russell pushed Lucion down and gave him a pained look.
[Hume. Come on, let's use the sunbeam].
"Yes. I'll use the sunbeam."
Hume nodded at the impatience in Bethel's voice.
He gently laid Lucion down and looked at Heint, who approached him.
Hume looked at him, too.
Heint opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to fall to his knees at once.
"Are you... Hume?"
"Yes, Mr. Heint."
"...Lucion."
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask you to help me for a moment, to heal the Master."
At Hume's urging, Heint went to the corner and held the light up to Lucion.
"Thank you."
Hume bowed, then rushed over and used the sunbeam on Lucion.
The light filtered down to pure regenerative power and fell on Lucion's body.
Hume watched as Lucion's wounds healed.
Still.
Lucion's eyes fluttered open and he saw Heint.
Immediately, fear rose to the base of his throat.
But he pulled himself up, turned to face Heint, and spoke.
"...I'm sorry, brother."
For a moment, Heint's face contorted.
As soon as he heard Lucion's sincere apology, all the things he had doubted, all the things he hadn't trusted, all the things he had tried to kill Hamel for being a warlock, came crashing down on him in waves.
Lucion's bloodless face was pale, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth, the cuts from Hothram's attack and the tattered branches of his clothes trampled in the snow.
Why.
Why would Lucion apologize.
The question blossomed in Heint's throat as he felt a surge of remorse.
"No need to... feel guilty, I tricked you. I......."
"Lucion!"
Heint exclaimed, his voice rising.
"Why."
His own lips quivered.
"Why... why didn't you... tell me?"
"If I had told you, would you have... believed me?"
Lucion offered a sheepish smile.
"If I had told you I was a warlock, would you have believed me?"
"Of course not. If you......."
"I have done many things for you as a Hamel, for the Empire, but even you, knowing that, would not have doubted me?"
At the look of understanding in Lucion's eyes, Heint felt the ground give way.
It was he who had created that look now.
He felt a sinking feeling in his gut.
"You look at me differently because I'm a warlock, and you want me to trust you. Please, believe that I'm not like the other warlocks in the world. You doubted me, even though I was begging you."
Lucion's words, every word, hurt so much.
"I couldn't... tell you. Even if I said I was different, I'd already be torn apart for being a warlock, and even if I denied it, even if I wasn't like them, I'd be alone, and there are many who would tear me apart."
Lucion closed his mouth for a moment and shuddered.
Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Brother, do you know that, the truth doesn't really matter, because it's not for me to judge, and if I'm already known as a warlock, I'm a bad person no matter what I do, which is why I kept silent, ...which is why I hid it."
-By the way, I'm not wearing this shitty mask and playing the puppet master like an asshole! I want to live, too. Don't kill me. Don't hurt my people because of me.......
Heint knew now what Lucion had been feeling that day when he spat out those words.
He must have been coughing up blood.
His world must have fallen apart.
It must have been more painful than he dared to imagine.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Lucion. I'm sorry, and I'm disgusted with myself for saying it, but I'm so... sorry."
Heint hung his head, unable to look at Lucion any longer.
He was so ashamed that all he could do was apologize.
"Brother."
Heint couldn't speak at Lucion's call.
Too ashamed.
For being sorry.
Too sorry.
"Are you going to... kill me?"
A single tear slipped down his cheek as Lucion's question was carefully worded.
This wasn't pity.
The question sounded so desperate, so pitiful, that he could no longer contain his emotions.
"Never. Never."
Heint swallowed hard, his words deeply sincere.
How could he kill Lucion?
How dare he.
-Lord Heint. Take good care of Hamel. He keeps stepping in the snow. It's like he's crying out with his whole body, isn't it? That's what it looks like to me. I feel sorry for him.
Ketlan was right.
Hamel, no, Lucion, was always howling.
Ketlan saw it, and he didn't see himself.
"...Lucion."
Heint lifted his head, drew his sword, and drove it into the ground.
Lucion's eyes fluttered open.
"I, Heint Tria, swear by my sword and my heart that I will protect Lucion Cronia, until the day I die."
The most heartfelt words a knight could utter.
A knight's oath.
By giving his all, Heint let Lucion know that he would not kill him, no matter what.
"Yes. That... settles it."
Lucion smiled broadly, but he couldn't stop the tears from falling.
His mouth tasted like blood, his breath smelled like blood, and the empty darkness made his flesh throb as if it were being torn apart with every movement.
His eyes felt heavy right now, like someone was tugging at his consciousness, but if he closed them, maybe it would all be a dream.
Maybe the red thread that connected him to Heint had been cut.
Fearful of that, Lucion looked at Heint and sobbed softly.
The tears in his mouth tasted strange, mixing with the taste of blood, but he couldn't stop crying.
-Don't cry, Lucion. If Lucion cries, black. Latta is sad, too.
Latta, who was already in tears, sobbed and said.
[It's okay, lord Lucion].
Bethel patted Lucion's head and said.
[It's okay, it's okay, don't hold on to your consciousness].
Russell wiped away Lucion's tears.
Lucion bit his lip tightly, trying to find the tears, but his shoulders shook quickly as the sound of a sob escaped his lips.
Heint apologized again, looking at Lucion with childlike tears in his eyes.
He knew it would be useless to apologize again, but it was all he could manage.
"...I'm sorry, Lucion, for not trusting you, for not knowing beforehand."
At those words, Lucion let out a little cry that he had been holding back.
"Master."
Hume could no longer look at Lucion.
How hard it must be for him to weep over his scarred body.
"It's okay now, it's okay, don't hold on. It's not a dream."
"...Is it?"
Lucion asked, looking at Hume.
The question sounded pleading, desperate, and Hume smiled very widely.
"Yes. This isn't a dream, this is real. Have I ever lied to you, Master?"
No.
Hume had never lied to him.
Lucion smiled and closed his eyes.
Hume picked up Lucion as he collapsed into a heap.
Lucion's breathing was ragged, but his face looked so peaceful.
Hume looked at Heint.
"I don't know if I dare say it, Master, but he was very much afraid of this situation, so thank you."
"I... don't deserve it, so please don't thank me."
Heint made a face again.
"Perhaps the Master will thank you."
"I mean, I'm......."
"I know something unpleasant happened along the way. You've been a bit of a prick, too, but he's trusting you with his life right now, Mr. Heint."
"......."
Heint looked at Hume, unsure of what to say.
Hume laughed softly.
"That faith is exactly what you wanted so badly."
The words brought tears to Heint's eyes that he had been holding back.
Regret and remorse.
And respect for Lucion, who had set himself on fire for the Empire, no matter how hard it was.
* * *
"...Where is Mr. Hamel?"
Krahn asked, looking at Heint.
The stalled transporter was restarted by the combined efforts of Reinert and Peter.
They joined the knights waiting outside and entered the magic tower.
Together, the knights and assassins tore through the wizards that were suddenly attacking them, and they climbed up one floor at a time.
There was a strange phenomenon of bodies disappearing along the way, but it didn't matter to Krahn.
He hadn't been able to contact Lucion since the fifth floor.
No. Lucion was nowhere to be seen.
"Hothram. I defeated the Hand of the Void boss."
Heint answered casually, but Krahn knew it was a lie.
Unable to hold back any longer, he approached him and opened his mouth to speak, startled by a familiar piece on the floor.
It was part of Lucion's mask.
"...Who was with you when you killed him, Mr. Hamel?"
"That's Heint."
Carson pointed to Heint.
Krahn immediately grabbed Heint by the scruff of the neck and pushed him across the room.
"...Where did he go?"
Krahn asked, his voice cracking.
"We'll hear from him soon, won't we?"
Indeed, Hume had said he'd hear from him later.
He didn't know which one, but now that he thought about it, it might be Krahn.
"Have you seen it?"
Heint hesitated at the next question.
The piercing look in Krahn's eyes told him this was no ordinary question.
Did you know Lucion's identity?
At that, Heint nodded.
"...Yes."
Ziyiying.
The sound of a communication item beeping just in time made Krahn smile in relief and turn around.
"Yep. This is Krahn."
* * *
"Hi."
As Lucion came to, the black figure waved, the mask he'd worn as Hamel still in place.
It could hardly be called a black figure anymore.
It wore a mask, and its hair was short, reaching down to its shoulders.
"...Why am I seeing you?
Lucion asked, and the black figure smirked.
''Since you have the black orb, you must have come to see me, now sit down.''
The black figure gestured to a couch.
"You're surprised, aren't you, Lucion?"
Lucion frowned at the black figure's words.
"Are you referring to Hothram?"
"Who is Hothram? I'm not sure you and I are speaking the same language."
"Void Hand Boss."
The black figure seemed puzzled by Lucion's answer.
'His name was Hothram this time?'
'It wasn't my mood after all. The Void Hand boss has changed from the previous world.'
Lucion suddenly realized why the face of the Hand of the Void boss was different.
The black figure didn't react to the words 'previous world'.
"He's possessed by Veronia."
Lucion spoke up.
Or, more accurately, Hothram had called him.
It occurred to him that Hothram and Veronia had known each other from the beginning.
That would mean that Hothram no, the Hand of the Void is a mere puppet to Veronia.
For what?
"And?"
The black figure asked, intrigued.
'I blew out one of his eyes with Bethel.'
One corner of Lucion's mouth lifted, and the black figure immediately stood up.
"Do you mind if I hold him?"
Lucion said, sounding quite excited, and pulled back.
"...Piss off."
'That's cheeky. A joy like this should be shared.
"So, what's the story today?"
The black figure curled his lip in disappointment at Lucion's change of subject, but settled back into his seat.
"Do you remember the story from last time?
"You said Veronia went to the darkness and begged."
"Yes, he did, and he begged very hard."
The black figure chuckled, then spoke.
"But the Darkness exists for the good of all, so I refused his request to prevent the Fall."
Lucion chuckled at that.
He couldn't believe he'd felt so sorry for him, and then had to turn down his request.
If I were there, I'd give him a pat on the back.
"Listen, this is the key."
The black figure's mouth curled in amusement.
"The servant of darkness killed the darkness to live, and wore the mantle."