The Day I, a Demon King's General, Received a Blessing - The place to return to

The flames were still smoldering. From the collapsed warehouse's remains, thin wisps of smoke rose in countless threads, dissolving into the darkness of night. Occasionally, half-burned timber snapped with a dry crack. Each time, sparks danced up into the air, scattering into the dark as grains of red light. Celestia heard those sounds as if from the bottom of water. She lay on her back. Against her back—the feel of cold stone fragments, ash still holding heat, and bent beams. They pressed down upon her body over her scorched skin. Only her fingers, reaching through gaps in the rubble, clawed at the earth as if desperately seeking something. Trembling fingertips. Soil worked its way beneath her blackened nails. *(Ah.)* She was still breathing. That alone felt strange. The blast of Explosion magic had seared her airways, burned her lungs. With every breath, something bubbled at the back of her throat with a wet, gurgling sound. The taste of iron spread through her mouth. The taste of her own blood. She no longer had the strength to swallow. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips, down her cheek, and into her ash-covered ear. Through the narrowest gap between charred, collapsed timbers, she looked up at the sky. The night sky. She could see stars. Smoke from the explosion still covered part of the sky. But through the breaks, cold, clear starlight peered down in countless points. Was that the northern sky? The southern? She could no longer tell. All she knew was that those stars were terrifyingly far away. Her vision flickered white, again and again. The pain, strangely, was already distant. Her entire body was burned, her bones surely shattered—yet her sense of pain had gone numb. In its place, an unidentifiable cold crept up from the core of her body. She could feel death slowly, surely, encroaching from the tips of her limbs. Deep in her chest, Volkar's contract sigil gave one final throb. *Thud.* Once. That was all. The mark that had sworn loyalty to the Demon King fell silent, as if its duty was complete. The place that should have held heat sank quietly, like cold mud. *(It's over.)* Celestia thought. Her revenge had not been fulfilled. What she should have protected had already turned to ash. And now she, too, would die beneath these scorched ruins, her name unknown. *(That's fine.)* It should have been fine. But her fingertips alone still moved, faintly. *Scrape.* The sound of clawing earth. She didn't even know what she was reaching for. Beneath the rubble, her fingers clawed at the soil as if in spasm. The skin on the back of her hand—where she had carved her comrades' names—was split open. Blood, soil, and ash mingled, forming dark stains. —At that moment, at the edge of her vision, a warm color flickered. Celestia slowly turned her broken eyes toward it. Beyond the rubble. What she saw there. Stone fortress walls. A courtyard dyed in sunset. A familiar sight. * The courtyard garden shone golden. Summer, at dusk. The air was soft, the scent of earth mingling with the scent of green vegetables. Brownies were watering the plants carefully with their small hands. A mossglin was sunbathing, pretending to be a moss-covered stone. A hydral's body gleamed silver on the river surface beyond the hill. The voices of women preparing the evening meal drifted from somewhere. Laughter. "—Tia." Someone called. Celestia turned around. There they were. The old brownie woman. That old woman who sang so beautifully. A short girl skilled at weaving flower crowns. That young hydral who was always chasing fish by the riverside. The timid mosglins who were always frightened of their own shadows. Everyone was there. "—Tia." She was called again. Celestia took a step toward the voice. The garden soil sank softly beneath her feet. The sunset was dazzling. "You're late." A voice spoke. She looked and saw a male fighter from the fortress leaning against a pillar, smiling. The man she had taught swordsmanship to. The one who always wiped his sweat after training while gazing at the sunset. "Welcome home." Someone else said. Celestia stopped walking. She felt as though she had returned here carrying some impossibly vast hole inside her. A great hole in the center of her chest, through which a cold wind blew. Into that hole, the warmth of the sunset slowly seeped. *(Welcome home.)* Those words repeated in the depths of her ears, over and over. *(Welcome home.)* The voices of her fortress comrades overlapped. "...I'm home." Before she knew it, she had said it. Her throat trembled. Instead of tears, the depths of her chest burned and ached. * Again, reality. Beneath the rubble. The cold feel of earth. Celestia's fingers clawed at the soil once more. This time, the movement clearly sought something. *(Everyone.)* She called out in her heart. *(Where are you?)** Her vision wavered. The darkness of reality and the phantom sunset appeared alternately before her eyes. The smell of charred timber and the smell of garden soil mingled, and she could no longer tell which was real. The sunset in the illusion deepened further. The courtyard's stone paving was dyed deep crimson. There, a single shadow slowly approached. A small, elderly woman. The old brownie woman. She had always gently patted Celestia's back. She had taught her songs. That morning, the charred right arm Celestia had pulled from beneath the rubble. The old woman was smiling warmly. Half of her face was burned black. Her hair had melted from the flames and clung to her scalp. But the old woman was smiling. Celestia could not move. The old woman slowly extended her charred right arm. Her fingertips rested upon Celestia's spasming, torn left hand. It was warm. The warmth of earth. The warmth of sunset. And then, without a word, the old woman squeezed Celestia's hand back. At that moment, from behind the old woman, her comrades appeared one after another. The brownies. The mosglins. The hydrals. The fortress fighters. Everyone was smiling, gazing at Celestia. "You did well." Someone said. "You made it back." Another said. "It's all right now." The old woman finally opened her mouth. "It's all right now, Tia." That voice was like the song she had heard on that full-moon night at Velza Fortress. Deep in Celestia's chest, something collapsed with a sound. The blade of revenge. The armor of hatred. All of it melted away in the sunset's light. *(Ah.)* Celestia thought. *(I see.)* She had not won. Her revenge had not been fulfilled. But. *(I'm glad.)* From the very depths of her heart, those words overflowed. *(I'm glad.)* What was she glad about? She didn't know. But when she squeezed the old woman's hand back, her heart grew calm for the first time. The regret, the hatred, the anger that had tormented her for so long—all of it dissolved into this sunset. Celestia squeezed the old woman's hand tightly. In the real world, her death-throes clenched at charred rubble. She stepped into the circle of her comrades. Then, her comrades parted to make way. What she saw beyond. That view visible from the highest point of the courtyard. Sunset. The sky was burning. Vermilion, gold, and purple mingled in complex layers, gently trying to envelop the entire world. The wind blew. The garden leaves rustled. "Beautiful, isn't it." Someone said. "Yeah." Celestia nodded. She looked at the sunset. An infinite, spreading sunset. Her wounded heart, her unfulfilled vows—all of it dissolved, filling this world. *(Here.)* Celestia realized. *(This is where I belong.)** The tension she had carried for so long faded from the corners of her mouth. And she smiled, just a little. * "—That was rough again, huh." Kazuma's voice echoed through the abandoned warehouse district at night. The four of them walked along the road leading back to Axel, their backs to the collapsed warehouse and the still-smoldering flames. Kazuma lazily kicked a pebble at his feet. "Yeah. But with this, the Demon King's army remnants are down by one. A splendid victory." Darkness gazed with satisfaction at the bandages wrapped around her arm. "Victory? It's more like my Explosion magic cleaned everything up again." Megumin shouldered her staff proudly. "What are you talking about? Without my purification water, we never could have beaten that woman." Aqua puffed out her cheeks and glared at Megumin. "No, I mean, we beat her because of my Steal—" Kazuma started to say, and three gazes pierced him simultaneously. """Satou Kazuma, shut up.""" The three voices overlapped. Kazuma shrugged and started walking. "...Anyway, we need to report to the guild. That woman had a bounty on her, right? I wonder how much it'll be." "Kazuma, save such vulgar talk for when we reach the guild. You're ruining the afterglow of victory." Darkness said, exasperated. "What afterglow? It's over, so now it's about the money." Aqua nodded vigorously at Kazuma's words. "That's right. My drinking money for this month is already in trouble." "Your drinks at the guild are basically all paid for by others..." Kazuma sighed. "Kazuma, I want to drink fine wine. Eldorante vintage. We'll buy a whole barrel." "Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how much that costs?" "Well, it depends on how much the bounty is. That woman was probably just some nameless, small-fry monster, so I doubt it'll be much." At Aqua's words, Megumin snorted. "Small fry is fine. As a supporting role for beautiful Explosion, she was more than adequate." The four walked on. Laughing. Side by side. No one looked back. Far away, in the opposite direction of their departure. Beyond the collapsed warehouse. A single life, growing cold, unknown to anyone. Fifty thousand eris. The value placed upon her head. * Celestia's left hand had frozen. Her fingers were slightly curled, in the same shape as when she had held the old woman's hand in the illusion. At her fingertips, her own blood and the rubble's soil had mingled, staining black. Her body, half-buried beneath collapsed beams and ash. The heat had long since faded. The sigil on her chest had become nothing more than a bruise. The pre-dawn wind swept through the abandoned warehouse district. It stirred up a few of the smoldering sparks. The sky began to whiten, just slightly, from the eastern edge. Soon, morning would come to Axel. The market would open, and people would buy and sell bread, vegetables, and fish. At the adventurer's guild, Kazuma and the others would report their completed quest and laugh with their companions. No one knew of her death. No one tried to know. That was simply how this world worked. —Even so. A faint smile lingered on Celestia's face. On the face of a nameless, burned monster in reality. The final expression of an avenger. * Night breaks. Celestia walked with her comrades through the phantom sunset. The old woman hummed a song. That song from the full-moon night. Celestia walked slowly beside her. Toward the far side of the sunset. She would not look back. In the real world, morning light streamed into the abandoned warehouse district. Her hand, gone cold. It gave one final, true spasm. Then, the strength slowly drained from her fingertips. The stillness before dawn. The sparks had vanished. What remained was only the collapsed warehouse, the ash, and the silence. No one called her name. That was how this story ended.

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Episode 6

Name: The Day I, a Demon King's General, Received a Blessing
Author: Novelia

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