Episode 178
“Ugh…”
Philemon woke with a groan, a painful pressure constricting her. She opened her eyes.
“Where am I…?”
Her initial confusion faded as she realized where she was trapped.
It had to be Ravanta. Her last memory was of Lucius, his back turned to her as he crossed the border.
‘This is suffocating. I have to get out.’
She emerged from the ring where she had been residing, but the suffocating feeling persisted.
“Did Lucius put me in a box?”
The box felt familiar.
No, more than familiar. Even trapped inside, she could sense her own Holy Power emanating from it. She hadn’t realized it sooner because of the overwhelming sense of confinement.
“It’s the box where I kept the diary.”
Then escaping would be easy.
Philemon, relieved, tried to open the box with her Holy Power. But,
“…Why isn’t it opening?”
It was as if someone was holding it shut from the outside.
She felt a surge of anxiety.
“Could it be Tristan?”
If she had been captured by Tristan, the situation was dire. Elonia, Lucius, and Artius were all in danger.
Philemon, her heart pounding, unleashed a greater surge of power.
“Open!”
But the box remained stubbornly shut, as if a heavy weight was pressing down on it.
“Elonia…!”
She cried out her daughter’s name and unleashed even more power.
And then, as if it had been a simple trick all along, the box clicked open.
Philemon, gasping for breath, quickly squeezed her arm through the opening and pulled herself out, afraid it might close again.
“Elonia!”
She called out her daughter’s name, but then she saw—
“Your Majesty!”
“Ugh…!”
Artius, his shoulder being bitten by a monster that looked exactly like her.
Philemon’s eyes widened in horror.
“Artius…?”
She couldn’t understand what was happening.
This was the observatory in the Ravanta Main Palace. Tristan, who she thought had captured her, was standing on the spire above, looking down at them with a smug grin.
But one thing was certain.
She had to save Artius from that monster, that phantom, imbued with Tristan’s power.
“Artius!”
She screamed his name.
But unlike Tristan, who had cultivated his own power after abandoning the Calamity God, Philemon was dead. No one could see or hear her, except for another apostle of the Calamity God.
“Stop! Get away from Artius!”
She shouted again, her voice echoing unheard in the vast space.
The disgusting phantom was mimicking her appearance, the way she looked when she died.
Artius, despite his stern exterior, was surprisingly sensitive. He wouldn’t be able to attack a monster that looked exactly like his deceased wife, even if he knew it was fake.
‘I still have some power left from the Calamity God. But…’
What if she triggered his trauma again, the trauma of seeing her die?
Just then,
Thud!
The sickening sound of flesh being pierced echoed through the observatory. Philemon stared in disbelief.
Artius…
“Who said I couldn’t stab her…?”
He had stabbed the phantom.
“Philia is dead. And this thing is a fake.”
He had offered his shoulder to the phantom, then stabbed it through the chest.
Ricardo also stared, his eyes wide with shock.
“Y-Your Majesty…”
Slash.
Artius, his face grim, cut the phantom down. It dissolved into mist, swirling around him.
He wasn’t completely safe yet, but he had struck the first blow. He wouldn’t be swayed by the phantom again, even if it reformed.
Artius, wiping his sword, turned to Ricardo.
“So, what brings you here?”
“Ah, I have something to deliver to Her Highness…”
Ricardo finally noticed the box, which lay open on the floor, its lock broken. He quickly picked it up.
“Gasp!”
He stared at the broken lock, his eyes darting around nervously.
Philemon, watching him, couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
‘I was worried for nothing.’
She felt a pang of sadness, but also a surge of pride.
Artius, who had always been so anxious, so clingy, had grown up.
She unleashed her divine power, the small amount she had left, towards the mist swirling around Artius.
Poof. The mist vanished without a trace.
“…!?”
Both Artius and Ricardo were startled by the sudden disappearance of the mist.
“Was that Young Master Lucius?”
“No, he went to the spire with Elonia.”
Philemon flew behind Artius and gently embraced him.
He couldn’t feel her touch, but a warmth, a familiar scent, a nostalgic memory, filled his senses.
“Philia?”
“Huh?”
Ricardo, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, let out a strange sound. But Artius’s senses were sharper. Philemon smiled.
“Artius, it was good to see you again, even if it was just for a moment.”
She kissed his cheek lightly. Artius, his senses heightened, felt the warmth of her lips and quickly turned around, but she was gone.
She was already flying towards the spire.
“Gasp…!”
Lucius stumbled, almost collapsing as they climbed the spire. Elonia, startled, quickly caught him.
“Lucius!”
“I-I’m fine… Ugh.”
Lucius tried to sound brave, but his lungs burned, and he could barely speak. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, reluctant to burden Elonia further.
“…Let’s rest for a bit.”
“No, we don’t have time… Gasp.”
But Lucius’s stamina was at its limit.
The spire was incredibly tall, the climb arduous. Those with business at the spire usually used the mana-powered elevator, but it was disabled by the Holy Power.
Lucius, forcing air into his burning lungs, pushed himself away from the wall.
“I apologize, Your Highness. Let’s go.”
“…Alright.”
Elonia considered carrying him, but she didn’t have the strength to lift a grown man, especially one much larger than her.
She took his hand and continued climbing, when,
“Ugh…!”
Lucius cried out in pain. Elonia turned to him, her face filled with concern.
“What’s wrong, Lucius?!”
“My head…”
“Your head? What about it?!”
Elonia panicked. Was he reaching his limit?
‘Damn it, if only I could help…’
She couldn’t use magic, so she could only rely on her swordsmanship, which was useless against the phantoms. She had burdened Lucius too much.
Lucius, his body trembling, sank to his knees, groaning in pain. He cursed himself inwardly.
‘Damn it, I should have learned how to fight…’
That was a cleric’s weakness. Their inability to fight.
And unlike other clerics, Lucius hadn’t had the opportunity to hone his skills by treating the sick and injured at the Temple. He was inexperienced in managing his power.
‘But I can’t collapse here.’
Just as he was about to force himself to stand, biting his tongue to endure the pain,
Why did you love me?
A voice, unfamiliar yet strangely familiar, echoed in his mind.
He didn’t know who it was, or who the question was directed at.
And the location was strange. An impossibly clear sky, a soft, fluffy ground made of clouds. It wasn’t a place humans lived.
This was…
‘A god’s memory.’
He was seeing a god’s memory.
Countless images flashed through his mind. He stood there, frozen, for an unknown amount of time.
“Lucius, what’s wrong?”
Elonia’s worried voice brought him back to reality. He looked at her, their eyes meeting.
He was still confused, disoriented by the memory he had just witnessed. But his mouth, as if acting on instinct, spoke.
“Your Highness, I have something to tell you.”
Tristan stood at the top of the spire, looking down at the chaos below.
It was a familiar sight, a gruesome spectacle he had witnessed countless times.
‘But it’s different this time. I’m doing this to ascend to the highest position.’
So it was different.
Felix, standing below him, oblivious to his thoughts, looked up at him anxiously.
“Tristan, Lucius and Chelon are coming! We have to hurry…!”
“One moment, Your Majesty.”
Tristan interrupted him.
Because—
“You’re awake, Alex.”
Alexia had awakened.
He looked at the woman flying towards him.
But something was strange. He could sense Alexia’s presence, but the woman’s appearance was unfamiliar.
And she looked remarkably like Elonia.
Having lived as the weak, having witnessed the Calamity God’s twisted nature firsthand, Tristan understood instantly.
‘So that’s how it is.’
He smiled, a strange mix of joy and sadness in his eyes.
Chelon Heilan. How fortunate she was.
She had no right to complain about her hardships. She had a mother who was willing to die for her, twice.
If it were him, he would have endured anything, not whined and complained like she had.
‘I have no ill feelings towards Alex, but I’m starting to dislike Chelon.’
He assessed his power.
It wasn’t as strong as he would have liked, but it was enough for a small prank.
‘And I’m curious.’
He had become intrigued by this family.
Chelon had killed herself for her family.
Artius had stabbed his beloved wife’s phantom.
Alexia had died twice for her daughter.
Endless self-sacrifice. It was a concept Tristan couldn’t comprehend.
‘But Alex, I’m curious about what you’ll do when you’re cornered.’
How far would she go for her family?
Alexia, who had always been an anomaly among apostles, would she defy him again?
Black smoke emanated from Tristan, snaking out like a tendril, wrapping around something, and then vanishing into the air.
“Tristan?”
Felix, his face filled with confusion, called out to him. He could see Tristan’s power diminishing, which was absurd, considering the situation.
“Tristan, what are you doing?”
“Just a small prank.”
“Lucius and Chelon are coming!”
“Exactly. Three against one wouldn’t be fair.”
Tristan smiled down at Felix, his expression serene. Felix, who couldn’t see Alexia, was baffled by his reaction.
Tristan simply smiled.
‘Your Majesty loves me, but he’ll be angry if I tell him he’s a burden in his current state.’
All Heilan royals were like that.
And both he and Felix were weak in close combat. Elonia wouldn’t be able to touch Tristan, but she could harm Felix. It was better to be prepared.
It seemed like Elonia and Lucius would arrive soon.
He knew Felix’s love was unwavering, but the years he had spent unloved couldn’t be completely erased.
This would be his last question. Tristan, his face filled with a wistful longing, asked Felix,
“Your Majesty, would you still love me, no matter what I look like?”
“Of course. I love you. You’re the only one I love, Tristan.”
Tristan, hearing his unwavering response, smiled brightly, as if he had gained the whole world.
But Felix, looking at his smile, felt a sudden surge of unease.
“Tristan, don’t tell me…”
Just then, the spire door burst open.
“Perfect timing.”
Tristan, ignoring Felix’s question, turned towards the two figures who had come to kill him.
The two, their faces streaked with sweat, glared at Tristan and Felix, their voices filled with murderous intent.
“Given up yet, Tristan?”
“Let’s end this here, Felix.”
Tristan grinned, as if this was exactly what he had been waiting for.