Episode 162
Elonia stared blankly at Lucius.
She hoped she had misheard, misunderstood. But she knew she hadn’t.
Or perhaps Lucius didn’t understand the gravity of his own words? But he continued, his head still bowed, his voice trembling,
“Not only will I surrender my apostle’s power, but I will also become his eternal slave through death and resurrection. In exchange, I asked him to spare Philemon.”
He knew exactly what he was saying.
Elonia felt a lump form in her throat, choking back the words she wanted to scream. She managed to keep her voice steady, cold.
“…You’re trading your life for Mother’s?”
Lucius flinched at her icy tone.
“Yes. Philemon has no physical body. If her power is taken, she’ll vanish without a trace. But I’m different. I have a body.”
“So your life means nothing?”
“I’ll be resurrected.”
“And the people of Ravanta?”
After a brief silence, Lucius replied, his voice steadier now,
“I can’t guarantee everyone’s survival, but if they surrender quickly, unnecessary sacrifices can be avoided.”
Anger surged through Elonia again. She bit her lip, trying to suppress it, but her hands trembled.
He must have sensed her fury, but his resolve remained unchanged.
“Are you seriously asking me to destroy Ravanta?”
Her breathing grew ragged.
Lucius didn’t answer. Elonia jumped up, shouting,
“I still remember! I remember the thousands of lives extinguished by my hand! How easily, how meaninglessly they vanished! And you want me to do it again?!”
Tristan wouldn’t kill everyone in Ravanta. But he would eliminate those who resisted. Ravanta didn’t blindly follow faith. Countless people would die in the ensuing conflict.
And she would be the one killing them.
“…This will be the last time.”
“Ha.”
Elonia let out a hollow laugh and sank back onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands.
She didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
Her anger had reached its peak, then cooled, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.
“Leave.”
“Your Highness.”
“Leave. There must be another way. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you.”
“Your Highness, there is no other way.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You know what it means for Tristan to appear in Ravanta.”
“…”
Yes, she knew.
Tristan could only manifest where his influence was strong.
Just like Philemon. Philemon had always been near Elonia, but Elonia hadn’t been able to see her until recently.
A dead apostle couldn’t manifest or wield their power unless someone believed in them.
Lucius, his face resigned, as if reciting his own eulogy, said,
“We’re cornered. So I want you, and your family, to survive.”
“Is this about that debt again?”
Elonia scoffed, her eyes filled with weariness.
“You repaid that debt long ago. You don’t have to be bound by it—”
“It’s not about the debt!”
Lucius interrupted her, his head snapping up.
He met her gaze, then quickly covered his mouth, flustered by his own outburst.
“S-sorry for shouting. But it’s really not about the debt…”
He trailed off, unable to continue.
Elonia narrowed her eyes.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s not about the debt…”
Lucius bit his lip, then turned away again.
He couldn’t tell her the truth.
All apostles, throughout history, shared a common trait.
Tristan, who had chosen Felix. Philemon, who had fallen in love with Artius despite her initial reluctance. And Lucius himself.
They couldn’t forget a small act of kindness, a helping hand, a gentle word.
Tears streamed down his face, escaping from beneath his mask. Elonia, startled, rushed to his side.
“What? Why are you crying?!”
She had been angry at his stubbornness just moments ago, but she couldn’t ignore his tears.
She panicked.
“Was my question that upsetting? And you were talking about dying just now? See, you don’t want to die either! Let’s rethink this. There must be another way.”
She removed his mask and eye patch and gently wiped away his tears with her sleeve.
Lucius slowly opened his eyes, his tear-filled gaze meeting hers. His original red eye, and his right eye, which was slowly regaining its red hue, were fixed on her.
This was the only way to save both him and Philemon.
Or perhaps… there was one more possibility. Lucius remembered his conversation with Tristan.
“Alex seems to be badly injured. She should have sensed my arrival in Ravanta, but she hasn’t shown herself.”
Tristan, who could search the entire Imperial Palace if he wished, hadn’t found Philemon yet.
Partly because she was doubly sealed within the ring and the box, but also because he didn’t know Philemon was Alexia.
Only Lucius knew her current state and location.
“Alex came here under the Calamity God’s orders. Bring her to me. Bring Alex, my only obstacle, before me, and I’ll spare your life.”
Alexia had received power greater than an apostle’s from the Calamity God to capture Tristan, but she had missed her chance and fallen victim to him.
But Tristan had called her his “only obstacle.”
Perhaps there was still hope for Alexia. But Lucius himself hadn’t fully recovered his apostle’s power. Hoping for Alexia, who was even more injured, to awaken was futile.
“Lucius.”
Elonia’s voice brought him back to reality.
Her hands were gripping his shoulders, as if urging him not to give up.
He didn’t want to give up either. But this was truly the only way.
He wanted to live. And Tristan had offered him a way to live, a way to be with Elonia.
“Hmm. Still resisting? Then how about this? Her Highness is destined to return to Heilan anyway. Bring Alex before me, and you can accompany her. I’ll even help you win the heart of the princess you love so dearly. Isn’t that tempting?”
But he couldn’t tell Elonia this.
Tempting? It was repulsive. And besides, both Elonia and Philemon were his saviors.
Telling her would force her to choose between Philemon’s life and his, causing her immense pain.
Lucius gently pushed her hands away.
“Your Highness, they were more desperate, so we were bound to lose. But this isn’t the end for you.”
Tristan was the first apostle. His centuries of accumulated power dwarfed Lucius’s short and tormented existence as an apostle.
Lucius smiled faintly, trying to comfort her.
“It’s alright if I end here. It’s not even a true death. So don’t feel guilty about killing me. This is the only way everyone can survive.”
This outcome had been predetermined for Lucius.
Love weakened people, especially apostles, who were helplessly swayed by this emotion.
Philemon, Tristan… they had both been driven by love, prioritizing their loved ones above all else, leading them down this path. Unloved and twisted by their pasts, they craved love while simultaneously fearing it.
They were willing to gamble their lives for love. That was the nature of the Calamity God’s apostles.
‘I never thought I would end up like this.’
Lucius had tried desperately not to fall in love with Elonia, but he had failed.
Because he was an apostle, he remembered the day she saved him. Because he was an apostle, he was inevitably drawn to Elonia, the daughter of an apostle.
So this was the price of his failure.
‘Her Highness is kind. If she knew how I felt, she would never let me die.’
There had been times when he hated being an apostle. But ironically, it was because he was an apostle that he had met Elonia.
She had given him hope when he had none. She had made him human, no longer a lonely, detached existence.
Lucius smiled, reverting to the facade he had worn when he first met her at the academy, his voice smooth and deceptive.
“I can accept death and resurrection. My emotions will vanish, so there will be no pain. But I don’t want that for you, Your Highness.”
Elonia’s face contorted in pain.
She was kind. She would grieve even for a stranger’s sacrifice. But her expression held something more, something deeper.
Lucius felt a pang of guilt, but also a flicker of joy.
‘I won’t tell her how I feel.’
His feelings were one-sided, selfish. He couldn’t burden her with them, couldn’t force her to feel guilty.
He didn’t want her to feel the same way. He didn’t even want her to know.
And yet, her grief, her sorrow, made him feel like he was more than just one of the many people she had saved.
“I want you to live on as a human, Your Highness.”
And Lucius, unable to help himself, let a hint of sincerity slip into his smile.