act18side

Yeah, I do think so.

But what you don't know is he's lived in the Afterglow and spent time with its residents day after day for more than a dozen years. His feelings for this place is no less genuine than anyone else.

There's no one who wants to skin Gertrude alive more than him, but he can't.

Do you think you're the angriest person to ever talk to him?

Mr. Biegler... he...

Besides, Kreide's condition endangers those around him, too. He has no way to get too close to anyone, and his past destined him to never live the life of a normal man.

He truly didn't have a choice.

But you let your feelings get in the way with him. You offered him a choice other than death.

Is that really a choice? He had to wander the world with an old man who's half dead. He learned how to play the cello, and yet he rarely had a chance to even touch one.

He can't make friends. He can't even get too close with anyone. Can you really call that a proper life?

But he lived.

Perhaps.

Having seen how he trembled back then, I can still feel a sharp pain in my arms, even now.

The Witch King... The Witch King.

I, Kreide, those who got infected inadvertently, and those who were forcefully infected...

The wounds that the Witch King left on Leithanien have yet to heal, but now there are those who thirst for his return, and there are even nobles who are sheltering his remnants and facilitating their research.

Oh, how I dread...

I dread I won't live to see the day they all meet justice.

*Cough*, *cough* *cough*...

You will live.

No need to comfort me, Junge Frau.

I've lived with him for all these years. It's a miracle that I'm still alive today.

He is like a real grandson to me.

I brought him here because I was actually thinking of introducing him to Biegler and setting him up with a job as an agent.

That way, I would at least get to die knowing he's in good hands.

But now... It doesn't really to me so much anymore.

I always thought... it was my fate to give my life to Their Majesties as an agent, but it seems... that's not really all there is, heh...

Sir...

Crash.

A tremendous noise comes from inside.

Go, let this old grandpa sit here a little longer. Go help them.

If you don't feel well, be sure to call my name!

The Voice of Mundane did not have a name, at first.

The melody was abandoned by the Witch King, after all.

It was a melody improvised by him on the spur of the moment and transcribed by his court musicians.

If the Witch King's complete pieces are howls from a deep abyss, then these fragments are indeed still melodies of the mortal realm.

And thus, these fragments were named the Voice of Mundane.

Be that as it may, the Witch King's power is still immensely terrifying.

Ebenholz, I may have asked you to show your purist form in music, but now—

I want you to think back to your life the past two dozen-or-so years. Let your resentfulness pour out.

Music is a portraiture of your life. It's the steps you take, the eyes you peer into the world with!

Don't let your emotions cloud you, but don't betray your emotions either! Explore, vent, and drag your melody out from the deepest parts of your soul!

I... I found it...

Right, that's it! That's exactly what I want!

That's the melody that was carved into your brain... It's the melody of destruction, and it is a ravaging one.

And you, Kreide, I need the opposite from you. I need you to constrain yourself.

You are too unreserved. You encompass everything that you've experienced. Do you know that your kindness is your greatest weakness?

Are you reconciling? Why are you reconciling? Why should you reconcile? Who has the right to ask you to reconcile?

Everyone thinks you deserve better. The idea has crossed your mind too, hasn't it?!

I...

You still aren't willing to change the way you think, huh?

Fine. Fine.

This is enough.

I can feel your melody too—

A void. A void that swallows everything whole.

Hngh...

Urgh...

Bear with it!

The energies of two wildly different Originium Arts begin to entangle with one another inside the room as anguished expressions start to appear on the two young men's faces.

Czerny knows it is time for him to join in.

Keep playing. Do not fret. If you feel something's wrong with your body, stop immediately.

But If you do feel something's off, and you're not the one to blame——

Then leave it to me.

Czerny sits in front of the piano, takes a deep breath, and starts playing as well.

However, when he attempts to sort out the two totally different surges of energy, he realizes just how much he overestimated his abilities.

The melody is strong, full of anger, terrifying, solemn, bloody—

Above all, it's a melody that fully immerses its listeners.

One moment, he's suddenly filled with hatred toward the Witch King. The next second, he has a heartfelt admiration for him.

One moment, he feels as though he is a newborn child, but he immediately feels the passage of time and its effects on his body. The very next second, he is as old as the hills.

He forces himself to keep his appearance intact with what little sanity he has left, but he feels as though he is walking in a boundless desert. The sandstorm is too powerful, and he cannot open his eyes.

He tries his best to shake the sand off. Then, he sees a towering wall that reaches even the sky. There is nothing on the wall. No pain, no anger, and no death.

It's a simple, unadorned wall.

At that very moment, he finally realizes. That is a wall he will never be able to overcome.

His mind is instantly filled with fear.

Gah!

Czerny coughs violently, sending blood gushing out of his mouth.

His cough is so intense that he tries to get up for a drink of water, only for him to stagger and knock down the music stand next to him.

Hey, are you alright?!

Herr Czerny!

I heard something just now! What happened?

A trifle, nothing more.

Now I see it. It's not that no one has ever attempted to do what I did. It's just that people who tried are all dead.

Ha, haha...

Hahahahahaha!

You're laughing?!

Mr. Czerny, You're bleeding out of your mouth... Let me wipe that for you.

How did you two feel just now?

When we drew out the Voice of Mundane, it felt very much like I was getting torn apart.

But after you joined in, it did feel like a lot of the pressure faded.

At the very least, this proves that my idea is workable.

But you're already...

I coughed up some blood, that's all. I know my own body better than anyone.

Let's continue.

Czerny sits back on his bench.

He closes his eyes and begins to ponder a question.

Who is Czerny?

He answers himself: Czerny is a coward.

He once hid underneath the wings of his dear friend and teacher, thinking that he could live his whole life through music.

Yet the death of his dear friend, the torments of Oripathy, and poverty all worked together to make him realize that he is but an ordinary man.

You will die.