Глава 14

If he who serves the King of Sarkaz is a Confessarius, then a Confessarius, I am.

So you can talk.

I'll give you a chance to introduce yourself before I shoot. What is this place? What does it have to do with the Confessarii?

Qa... lid'čoa... 'The Key'.

But this key opens no door, not anymore. Now, I am merely the warden of this deep, dark tomb.

What are you talking about? A tomb? For who?

The countless heroes of Kazdel, and the foes who died at their hands.

The Gravebearer, the Magnificent Eight, the Brave Eleven... all have fallen in the course of history, and I have buried many of them.

Here lies their weapons and armor, remnants of the past.

You must be joking. You knew all those people? Don't tell me, you're as ancient as that old hag?

I don't know why you old freaks keep clinging to the past. Are you going to let yesterday's bad jam stop you from eating today? Okay... I need to workshop that.

Many emerged from that epoch of heroes, becoming the new hope of the Sarkaz, time and again...

But all of them failed, joining the ashes and dust in this tomb.

You stand upon the sword of Qui'lon, the Wrathful Cerulean Flame.

Theresis left it here, because he refused to use it. Still, it is not proper to step upon it.

Qui'lon? Isn't he a character in myths and legends—

You're not playing me for a fool, are you?

Damn, I took a step back without even realizing it.

Why should I believe him? And why shouldn't I step on Qui'lon's sword, even if it was real?

I have answered your questions. Now you shall answer, mine.

Why do you trespass upon this place?

Clank.

The axe swings again. The shockwave almost makes W take another step back.

I'm here to pick a fight with the Confessarii. What's that altar used for? Tell me, or else!

The mission of this altar has ended. No one visits this place anymore, except fools who stumble upon it.

That strange fellow answered all my questions with flat interest. Clearly, he'd rather return to this work with the axe than engage with me.

I've lashed out at him, but my anger was met with no response. It's like throwing stones into a bottomless pit.

What did he mean? He's not with the Confessarii? Shouldn't he have come after me with his axe the moment the words left my mouth?

Hey, I'm talking to you—

The smoke clears, but the gaunt figure remains upright.

I didn't think I could take him out with a single bomb, but seriously, not even a scratch?

Futile. This vessel will never change again.

A failed vessel that has been denied both eternal life as the instrument of the Crown's coming, and the sweet release of death.

So you're one of the Confessarii's failed experiments too?

You feel bad for yourself? I could free you from your suffering.

It is but futile.

The man swings his stone axe and bats away W's bomb, as though swatting away a fly.

Good, I got a response from him.

That means there's a chance!

Three, two—

The bomb falls exactly where I expected it to. A section of the cavern collapses, trapping him beneath, but not enough to kill him.

I point my gun at his head.

You said the Confessarii made you indestructible? Let's see if I can't blow a hole in your brain at this range.

The Confessarii like their experiments, don't they? Did you guys make those bighead moths? Disgusting den of monsters.

Cut the poetry and answer my questions. Did you know Theresa?

The exiled one has had the honor of seeing that King of Sarkaz...

This, is where the tragic King was reborn.

This is the place... they... how did they do it?

The Confessarii brought the King's bloodied body back, and cut her soul from the myriad. But she was already entwined within the myriad, and could no longer exist as herself.

W turns around, toward the altar in the center of the cavern.

The menacing building looks unnerving and smells faintly of blood.

What had happened here?

I dare not think about it, but I can't stop myself.

Why...?

The present of Sarkaz needed her to die. The future of Sarkaz needed her to live.

As the King of Sarkaz, she gave her all, her spirit and her wisdom, her blood and her bone.

You followed the King's path as her former subject, but she is no longer the one you knew.

I saw her awakening, the sorrow on her face. I saw the weight on her soul, her eternal torment.

Enough... shut up.

She was a sacrifice to the myriad souls, to Kazdel, to all the past and future Sarkaz.

I said SHUT UP!

I've had enough...

Kal'tsit, Doctor, Theresis... all of you.

All of you have your big dreams and ambitions. You talk about doing great things.

But did it change anything in the end? People keep dying, the people who should die, the people who shouldn't, and the people who really shouldn't. And you won't even let her have her final rest!

To hell with the myriad souls and the suffering of the Sarkaz. Why should a person have to bear all this burden?

All of you can go to hell!

I'll blow this place... the place of her desecration to oblivion.

*pant*... *pant*...

Dust fills the entire cavern. The decrepit ornaments lie in ruins. Yet, the explosions are not enough to quench her anger.

In the deepest reaches of the cavern, a lone altar resembling a door remains.

What is this?

I...

Your Highness?

W pushes the door open.

Found you.

Crazy... you're crazy, just like they said.

I'm glad you already know. Then you must also know what I do to those who won't tell me what I want to know.

Now talk. What are you people planning around Kazdel? What's behind this overly simple operation?

Don't act like I'm stupid just because I don't care about all the ins and outs of Theresis giving up Kazdel.

You didn't break free of my witchcraft. How long do you think you can last?

Until you beg for death on your knees and spit out everything you know.

Hah.

Mercenary...

You think you're the special one that gets to live... everyone does, until death finally comes for them.

Death forgets no one. The myriad souls are waiting. You won't escape, and neither will she... it's all futile.

What about you?

Me? I'm happy to embrace my death.

Say goodbye to weakness, Sarkaz.

A new era has dawned. It belongs to us.

Even if there's no place for 'me' in 'us'.

W! Your hand... medic! We need a medic over here!

Damn, he triggered the grenade.

With the Sarkaz's death, his Arts cease; the mire fades and the stench of decay dissipates. Yet, why does the wilderness around them remain so dark?

A sense of unease deepens.

The expression on the Sarkaz warriors as they died was one of devotion.

Why would such an expression appear on the faces of men like them?

Were you able to get in touch with HQ?

Intra-squad communication has been partially restored.

Heavy interference still prevents us from reaching headquarters, though. It's possible that Originium activity is spreading in the area.