Chapter 235 - Damn Reincarnation

Lehein

He might die.

He genuinely thought so.

The hard swell and deep cleft of Moron’s pectoral muscles pressed against Eugene’s airway with exquisite precision. He struggled desperately to escape, but the strength of Moron’s embrace surpassed anything he could have imagined. With his back gripped so tightly that he could not even lift his head, Eugene was gradually sinking into Moron’s muscles...

‘I... I’m dy...’

Never mind being unable to breathe—the pressure crushing his body was simply too much...

Eugene twitched convulsively as his head spun. Even then, Moron kept crying out Hamel’s name. ... The crown of Eugene’s head was warm and wet, soaked by the great drops of tears spilling from Moron’s eyes.

[“Kristina. At this rate, Hamel might die.”]

Anise could no longer stand by and watch.

[“Do you think those delicate hands of yours can stop that imbecile? Kristina, the flail at your waist is ideally shaped for bashing that imbecile’s head. Even if you swing with all your strength, you won’t leave so much as a scratch on that thick skull.”]

‘But Sister, how could I be so rude to Sir Moron when we’ve only just met...’

[“Look, Kristina. Hamel is dying!”]

At a loss for what to do, Kristina made up her mind at Anise’s words. She boldly swept aside her robe and drew the flail secured at her waist and thigh. Whirling the weight at the end of its chain once overhead, she sent it flying at Moron’s head.

THWACK!

It was the sound of adamantium striking a human head, yet it sounded nothing like it should have. Kristina had been inwardly anxious, but she stared in astonishment at Moron’s forehead, which bore neither a drop of blood nor so much as a scratch.

“Hmm?”

Perhaps because he had at least been struck, Moron came to his senses. Blinking his tear-soaked eyes, he stared at Kristina’s face.

“Ooooh!”

Then he burst into tears and howled again. His arms spread wide, dropping Eugene to the floor. Stepping past Eugene’s sprawled body, Moron approached Kristina.

“H-hello, Sir Moron Ruhar. I am...”

“Kristina Rogeris! You really do look exactly like Anise. A few days ago, the circumstances kept us from even greeting each other properly.”

“Y-yes.”

Kristina stared fearfully at Moron’s welcoming chest. His muscles rippled. His footsteps drew nearer. He looked thoroughly intent on crushing her in a hug, just as he had Eugene.

“You goddamn imbecile...!”

Eugene staggered up from the floor. After coughing several times, he formed a bullet of condensed mana and hurled it at the back of Moron’s head.

BANG!

The bullet carried considerable force, but Moron’s head did not even tilt forward.

“What the fuck are you doing, grabbing me out of nowhere? You nearly fucking killed me!”

“Hamel!”

Moron stopped approaching Kristina and broke into a smile. Looking from Eugene to Kristina, he burst out laughing as tears dripped from his eyes.

“I never imagined I would meet you both like this. So I... I am tremendously happy to see you.”

With Moron laughing through his tears, Eugene could no longer complain. He rubbed his still-aching lower back with a rueful expression.

“Is Anise inside you?”

The question came at Kristina while she was still struggling to find something to say. Startled, she composed herself and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Meeting you is a joy and a wonder too, but if you don’t mind, would you allow me to greet Anise as well?”

“Of course.”

Kristina bowed her head and closed her eyes. A moment later, her shoulders shifted slightly.

“Have three hundred years of life made you a little wiser? Or simply more perceptive?”

“Anise!”

“Yes, that’s right. It is I, Anise Slywood. But Moron, how on earth did you recognize me? The man I remember was neither wise nor perceptive enough to recognize me from nothing more than the wings I spread beneath that cliff.”

“Because I became able to see,” Moron said, wiping away his great teardrops.

“My sight has grown very keen over the past hundred years. It changed because I lived somewhere that demanded it. Anise, I can see two souls dwelling in that body. Your souls resemble each other and are connected like twins—no, as though they were originally one. I cannot see a distinct shape, but your soul feels familiar to me.”

“... You can see souls now? What in the...”

“And yours is the same, Hamel. Familiar, welcome, and dearly missed. Even with a different body, you are unmistakably Hamel.”

Though he wiped his eyes, the tears kept falling. Seeing the enormous, fierce-faced Moron crying like a small child made Eugene’s heart ache. It reminded him of the dream Anise had shown him in the Great Forest of Samar, of Moron sobbing at Hamel’s grave.

“... Hey, stop crying already. We’re finally together, so why the fuck do you keep crying?”

“These are noble tears that even a warrior ought to shed.”

“Leave him be, Hamel. Nothing you say will stop him. You may not know this, but even three hundred years ago, no one was more stubborn than Moron when it came to his tears.”

When Hamel died in the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle, everyone there had cried.

But in sheer volume, Moron had shed the most tears. Senya had wailed, while Anise had wept quietly in piercing despair. Vermouth had cried as he glared at the ceiling that led farther up. Moron had pounded the floor with his fists, making a pool of his tears...

“It is best to leave Moron alone when he cries. Give him an hour or so, and he will stop—”

“No, you must not leave me alone. Anise, Hamel. Come here.”

Moron opened his tear-soaked eyes wide and spread his arms. His blatant intentions made Eugene and Anise stiffen. But Moron paid no mind. Despite telling them to come closer, he approached them first.

His enormous, thick arms gathered Eugene and Anise into a single embrace. For all their reluctant expressions, neither pulled away. Pressed close together as though they were one, they let Moron hold them. Their only complaints were... that Moron was too big, and that he cried far too much.

‘My head’s getting soaked...’

Moron’s tears wet the crowns of Eugene’s and Anise’s heads.

They stayed in that embrace for quite some time, scarcely speaking.

They simply felt the reality of one another’s presence.

Though Hamel had died and been reincarnated, he was here now as Eugene. Anise had died too, but she was here, dwelling within Kristina.

And Moron was here as well. The three touched and felt each other, taking in the reality of their presence. They were simply holding and being held, but that time was precious and valuable to them all.

... He had thought it was nothing special. Yet strangely, Eugene kept feeling as though he might cry. Back in Hamel’s body, he had never felt on the verge of tears so often.

‘It’s Vermouth’s fault.’

Vermouth was this body’s ancestor, so anything pathetic or displeasing about it was entirely Vermouth’s fault. Thinking that, Eugene held back his tears. When he glanced at Anise beside him, she was already weeping silently.

Seeing her made him think there was no particular need to hold back. So Eugene cried too. Not nearly as much as Moron—only a little. Just enough to calm the emotions welling up inside him.

Their time of tears and embraces came to an end. As though she had been waiting for that moment, Anise slipped free of Moron and hurried into the adjoining bathroom to wash her hair. Eugene washed his hair alongside her. Moron did not join them; instead, he used the large bed’s blanket as a towel, scrubbing his tear-soaked face and beard.

“... Aren’t you going to ask anything?”

A breeze Eugene summoned dried their wet hair. Anise combed her fingers through her freshly dried locks and sat on an empty sofa.

“Moron. Our presence in this era must make no sense to you.”

“But you are both here before me. And I am alive too. Right now, that is what makes me happiest, and what matters most.”

“I envy your ability to think so simply. But Moron, you need to know what happened to bring us here. Only then might you feel inclined to tell us what you have been through.”

Moron blinked at her words. Had he not grown any wiser after all? Anise clicked her tongue softly and crossed her legs.

“Well, it isn’t complicated. We’ve met for the first time in centuries, so let’s catch up and share our stories. As it happens, Hamel has plenty of liquor in his cloak to help us enjoy the conversation.”

At those words, Eugene’s cloak opened on its own. Mer peeked her head out.

“What?”

“... I’d like to introduce myself to Sir Moron too, since he’s Lady Senya’s companion.”

“Impossible!”

Moron exclaimed in astonishment. Striding over to Eugene, he bent his massive body low until his eyes were level with Mer’s.

“H-hello, Sir Moron. My name is Mer Merdein. I’m a familiar created by Lady Senya...”

“You look exactly like Senya!”

“Y-yes... Well... My appearance recreates Lady Senya’s childhood self...”

“I see! A little Senya made by Senya—then couldn’t you be called her daughter?”

Beaming, Moron stroked Mer’s head with his enormous hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Moron Ruhar, Senya’s companion and friend.”

Once the introductions were over, the four sat around a table. Under Anise’s silent pressure, Eugene laid out on the floor the many bottles she had stocked beforehand. Moron briefly left the room and returned with an armful of liquor that looked expensive at a glance.

“What about something to eat?”

“A true lover of liquor makes liquor his accompaniment.”

“I’d rather not...”

Still, they could hardly have someone bring food up from downstairs. Eugene at least wanted to pour his liquor into a glass, but Anise began drinking straight from the bottle as though it were only natural. Moron did the same. With both of them drinking that way, Eugene somehow felt he could not let them beat him, so he drank straight from the bottle too.

Mer sipped her juice, watching the three through narrowed eyes. It had already been two hundred years since her creation. Counted as an age, that hardly made her a child, but Mer considered herself an eternal child.

She did not want to become that sort of adult.

“I see.”

They were not simply drinking recklessly. They talked about many things as they drank. Anise calmly explained how she had come to exist in her current form.

“Moron. Do you remember the letter I sent you?”

“I kept it all my life without throwing it away. When the paper grew so old it was about to crumble, I chewed it up and swallowed it.”

“I think you could have spared us that detail. Frankly, it is unpleasant.”

Anise’s brows drew into a deep frown.

The world believed Anise had set off on a pilgrimage and vanished. But the highest authorities in Yuras knew how she had met her end, and for three hundred years they had used her bodily remains as holy relics.

Moron had not known that much. He had, however, known that Anise had died rather than gone on a pilgrimage. After returning from the desert, before taking her own life in the Holy See’s Audience Chamber, Anise had written him a letter containing her last wish.

“It was merely a letter, hardly even a final testament. My body had reached its limit, and even prolonging my life by force was no longer possible. So I would simply die. Since my death would not be announced to the world, he should keep it to himself rather than needlessly expressing his condolences. He should not come to Yuras. If possible, he should go on living well, and we would meet again in heaven someday.”

Anise paused to pour strong liquor into her mouth. Without once lifting the bottle from her lips, she drained its entire contents, then wiped her mouth and smiled.

“That was the sort of letter it was. Thankfully, Moron understood and honored it.”

Despite all the tears he had shed earlier, Moron’s eyes were red and wet again.

“There was no reason not to. Anise, you wrote it in your letter. You asked me, please, to do so. I do not ignore a friend’s request.”

“I wrote it because I knew that was the kind of person you were. Had I vanished without leaving you any letter, you would have charged straight into Yuras, wouldn’t you, Moron?”

“I would have.”

Moron nodded without denying it.

Eugene also explained how he had been reincarnated after his death. Naturally, his account could not help including Senya. Moron listened without interrupting, continuing to empty bottle after bottle.

“I...”

When the rather long account ended, Moron lowered the bottle he had been drinking from.

“Long ago, I tried to find Senya.”

That was something the world knew as well.

After Senya went into seclusion, Aroth had sent search parties into the Great Forest and across the continent to find her. Ruhar had supported Aroth’s efforts. But despite wandering the continent for a long time, the search parties had found no trace of Senya.

“After abdicating the throne, I even went to Samar myself. But I could not find her. The World Tree and the elves’ domain would not open their doors to me.”

Not even Moron could enter the elves’ domain under the World Tree’s protection. Things might have been different before, but after Raizakia’s attack, the World Tree had sealed away Senya and all the elves. Without a leaf of the World Tree, it was impossible even to detect the barrier’s existence.

“Senya is strong. Since I had lived for centuries, I assumed she would naturally do the same. I thought she had hidden herself from the world to train toward fulfilling her wish.”

“Her wish?”

“Are you asking because you truly don’t know, Hamel? We all wanted to avenge you, but Senya was particularly obsessed with it. After becoming a tower master in Aroth, she shut herself away there and devoted herself to creating magic.”

Moron closed his eyes.

“... But to think... that Vermouth attacked her. And then Raizakia... Frankly, it is hard to believe. But because it is you telling me, I believe it unconditionally.”

His eyes opened. With an unwavering gaze, Moron looked at Eugene and Anise.

“Just as I trust you, I trust Vermouth. The Vermouth I know would not attack Senya. If he needed her necklace to reincarnate you, Hamel, he would have tried to talk to her. Senya would have had no reason to refuse your reincarnation, would she?”

Eugene thought so too. The apparition of Vermouth he had seen in the Darkroom had said as much.

[“Senya still has the necklace containing your soul, but someday I intend to persuade her and receive it from her.”]

Despite saying it himself, Vermouth had not done so. After faking his death, he had summoned Senya in an utterly brutish manner.

He had invaded Hamel’s tomb and destroyed the familiar Senya had left guarding it. For reasons unknown, he had also opened Hamel’s sealed coffin and removed the body. Then he had sealed the Moonlight Sword inside the coffin.

He had attacked Senya when she arrived afterward, punching a great hole through the middle of her chest.

... Had Senya not used the World Tree leaf she possessed, Vermouth would have killed her there.

In the end, Vermouth had succeeded in taking the necklace from Senya. He had then arranged for Hamel to be reincarnated as his own descendant, and placed the necklace in the Lionheart Treasury.

Taken together, those actions did not add up. Sealing the Moonlight Sword. Reincarnating Hamel. Hiding the necklace deep within the Lionheart Treasury. Those three actions could be considered characteristic of Vermouth.

But why had he left Hamel’s corpse outside the door? Why had he attacked Senya and stolen the necklace? Those two actions were utterly unlike him.

“We trust Sir Vermouth too,” Anise said.

Those actions were not enough to make them doubt him. Their bond with the Vermouth Lionheart they had known throughout their travels in Helmuth was too strong. Even Senya, who had suffered his attack herself, had said she trusted him rather than resenting him.

“But I believe something must have happened to Sir Vermouth. Otherwise, he would have had no reason to do those things.”

“I’m not certain, but I think there’s something between Vermouth and the Demon King of Incarceration. It might stem from the promise that secured peace. If the Demon King of Incarceration threatened him, Vermouth might have attacked Senya. And even now, his soul might be held captive by the Demon King of Incarceration.”

Moron listened for a while without speaking. Tossing her empty bottle behind her, Anise said,

“Moron. Now it is your turn. Why did you suddenly announce your seclusion a hundred years ago? Why were you in Great Hammer Canyon?”

“Why did you chase us away a few days ago? And the Nur—what is that monster? I... don’t think I imagined the presence I felt then. Anise and I sensed something like the Demon King of Destruction from the Nur.”

No matter how often he reconsidered it, that conclusion did not change. Faint though it was, the Nur possessed the same ominous presence as the Demon King of Destruction.

That made it all the more incomprehensible. The Demon King of Destruction had not left Ravesta in Helmuth for three hundred years. Why, then, did a monster in Leheinyar, at the northernmost end of the continent, have the same presence?

“Hamel, Anise.”

After a brief silence, Moron spoke.

“Three hundred years ago, I was the first among us to meet Vermouth.”

“You were.”

It was a famous story. Eugene had heard it dozens of times from Moron in his past life.

Vermouth Lionheart. His homeland was the Kingdom of Ashal, which had bordered Helmuth. That country had only one distinction worthy of mention in the continent’s history: it had been the first kingdom destroyed when Helmuth rose in aggression three hundred years ago.

The kingdom’s few survivors had been captured by demons. Every one of them had been enslaved and transported to Helmuth. Experimental animals for black mages, toys for demons, living sacrifices—there was no such thing as a peaceful death for the slaves taken to Helmuth in that era.

Vermouth had been one of those slaves, captured by demons and black mages and transported to Helmuth.

To survive.

That was what Vermouth had said. With that single thought, he had seized a demon’s sword. It had been his first time wielding a sword, yet with those first swings he had killed dozens of demons and black mages. Then he had led the slaves being transported with him in an escape from Helmuth. Along the way, he had slain hundreds of demonic beasts and rescued other slaves in transit. Finally, he had left Helmuth and reached the snowfields claimed by the Bayar tribe.

There, he had met Moron.

“I met Vermouth before any of you, and fought beside him. I was already a brave warrior then, but Vermouth was already a hero. Apart from him, none of us began as heroes. By staying at his side, we became heroes.”

“...”

“Yes. We were undeniably heroes. We saved the world, though not in a satisfactory way. Even so, Hamel, Anise, your ends were unhappy. Hamel, you died in battle against Incarceration’s Staff. Anise, you informed me of your death through a letter. Senya withdrew without telling anyone the truth, and Vermouth... died.”

“He didn’t die,” Eugene muttered.

At that, Moron silently drained his bottle.

“... That may be the truth, but I believed Vermouth was dead. I saw his corpse myself and carried his coffin. In the end, I was left alone. Alone, I lived for a very long time. Until this very moment.”

The empty bottle stood upright on the table.

“I considered myself a hero and a warrior. So I wanted an end befitting a hero and a warrior. I did not want to die as Ruhar’s king, mourned by everyone. That was why I could never stop pondering.”

“Pondering?”

“My body did not grow frail, and my strength remained great. Even past a hundred, my prime as a warrior continued. How should I use this strength? Everyone called me a hero, yet the friends who had been heroes alongside me were no longer in this world.”

Moron’s lips stirred. With a bitter smile that looked out of place on him, he continued.

“Should I challenge Helmuth again? I thought about it. Again and again, I considered it, but never acted. This peace was won through Vermouth’s promise. If I challenged Helmuth again, the peace would shatter. Of that, I had no doubt. And I knew full well that alone, I could never kill even the Demon King of Incarceration, let alone the Demon King of Destruction.”

Moron’s solitude had been long. Time could not resolve the questions he carried.

“... It was Vermouth who gave me a new mission.”

“What?”

“More than a hundred and fifty years ago, after Anise and Senya had vanished, when I alone remained alive, Vermouth appeared in my dream and said this.”

[“Climb Leheinyar.”]

[“Look upon Raguryaran.”]

[“Guard against the end that crosses over from there.”]

“Vermouth,” Moron continued, “said he was asking this of me.”

To Moron, who had longed for an end befitting a hero and a warrior, the dead Vermouth had personally appeared in a dream and entrusted a request.

“A hundred years ago, just as Vermouth warned, the end began to cross over from Raguryaran.”

The ancient legend of the Bayar tribe that Moron had told them.

Beyond Leheinyar lay Raguryaran. A land of nothingness. A land that must not be entered. The end of the world.

The Bayar lived in Lehein to stop others from crossing into Raguryaran. And to stand guard, preventing the end from crossing out of Raguryaran.

Deep in the night, the Nur rose in Raguryaran. The Nur walked across the vast end and crossed Leheinyar. Children who would not sleep were devoured by the Nur.

“I trust Vermouth.”

That was why Moron had never doubted Vermouth.