Killed by the Love I Believed In, I Shatter Everything with a Greatsword - The Day the Sword Disappeared

The jet-black greatsword trembled. Allen's arm remained frozen, raised mid-swing. His knuckles had gone white from gripping the hilt so tightly. And yet, the blade did not move a single millimeter. (...Why?) Something questioned him from deep within his heart. Two years. He had crawled up from the depths of hell for this very moment. He had lived through days that tasted of nothing but blood, with revenge as the sole pillar supporting his heart. Lilia's face, crumpled on the floor, was twisted in terror. Her tears had melted the carefully applied rouge into a messy smear. Her platinum blonde curls were disheveled, and the hem of her dress was soiled by her own panicked breath. Ugly. This was Lilia Fernan's true form. "A monster..." Lilia's lips moved faintly. "Someone like you... someone like you..." Her voice trembled, her words breaking off midway. Allen stared down at her silently. (For two years, I imagined it constantly.) This moment. The moment her face would freeze in terror. The moment she would scream and beg for her life. The moment she would die pathetically, regretting having taken everything from him. He had replayed it in his head countless times. And yet. (...What am I doing?) The sword would not come down. The great hall was silent, as if a bucket of water had been thrown over it. The soldiers Allen had struck down moments ago lay bleeding on the floor. The nobles who had fled to the walls held their breath and watched. No one uttered a single word. That silence was broken by one man. One step. Another step. Diethart had quietly stepped between Allen and the greatsword. He called no guards, carried no weapon. He simply stood before Allen, his golden hair swaying. "...Move." Allen's voice was terribly hoarse. "Don't get in my way." "I cannot." Diethart's voice was calm. His blue eyes gazed directly at Allen. In those eyes, there was no fear, no anger. There was only sorrow. "Your accusation is true." Diethart spoke. "The crimes committed by Lilia Fernan, even given her position as the betrothed of royalty, can never be forgiven." Lilia raised her head. "N-No... I... I didn't..." "Be silent." Diethart did not turn back to look at Lilia. "That is precisely why—she must be judged by the law." Allen's hand trembled even more. (The law...?) "Your anger is entirely justified." Diethart continued. He did not back down a single step. "The pain of having your family taken from you. The despair of being betrayed by someone you trusted. I will not claim to understand all of it. However—" He slowly shook his head. "If you bring that sword down here, you will not be an avenger. You will be nothing but a murderer. Would that bring peace to your family's souls?" —A murderer. Those words pierced deep into Allen's chest. His sister's smiling face surfaced in his mind. Milia. She was nine years old. She always tied her chestnut hair into two pigtails and trotted along behind Allen. "Big brother, wait up," she would say, tugging at the hem of his clothes with her small hand. (...What would that child) What would she say, if she saw me like this? "Big brother, stop." Would she say that? Or perhaps—. Allen clenched his teeth hard. "...What do you know?" His voice was so cold it surprised even himself. "You haven't lost anything. There's no way you could understand how I feel—my family murdered, thrown off a cliff, crawling through the mud for two years." "Yes, I don't understand." Diethart nodded. "I don't understand. That is precisely why I am standing here." His blue eyes stared straight into Allen's gray ones. "What I do understand is the difference between right and wrong. And also—that you are not a man who can kill someone purely out of hatred, deep in your heart." Allen's breath stopped for a moment. "...What do you mean?" "You cannot bring that sword down, can you?" Diethart pointed out quietly. "You could kill her right now. Pushing me aside would be trivial for you. And yet, you cannot do it. Why is that?" Allen could not answer. "You are far more human than you think you are." A long silence stretched between them. Inside Allen's head, a whirlpool of emotions churned. Hatred. Sorrow. Anger. And—an overwhelming, helpless exhaustion. (Milia...) He called his sister's name in his heart, just one more time. In that moment—. The jet-black greatsword slowly faded from Allen's hand. The black light turned into fine particles and dissolved into the air. There was no clattering sound. The sword of Idea Forging simply vanished, without a noise. "...Ah." A small sound escaped Lilia's lips. Allen stared intently at his now-empty right hand. His fingers were still trembling. Only the lingering sensation of gripping the sword remained there. Diethart let out a deep breath. "...You have my gratitude." He turned his back to Allen and raised his voice to the soldiers standing at the entrance of the great hall. "Guards! Arrest Lilia Fernan!" Several soldiers approached with tense expressions. Stepping over their fallen comrades and avoiding the pools of blood, they seized both of Lilia's arms. "Let go of me! You insolent fools!" Lilia struggled violently. Uncaring that her hair was disheveled and her dress was tearing, she thrashed her limbs. But the soldiers dragged her away in silence. "Why didn't you kill me?!" Suddenly, Lilia screamed. Allen did not turn around. "Why?! You hate me, don't you?! You're dying to kill me, aren't you?! So why—why did you make your sword disappear?!" Lilia's voice was a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion towards something she could not comprehend. Her face smeared with makeup, she continued to scream at Allen's back. "You're insane! You're completely insane! You should have just killed me like that! If you had, you'd be nothing but a murderer—and I would have been the victor until the very end!!" Those words echoed throughout the great hall. The nobles gasped. (...The victor.) Allen let out a small breath. "I don't care." Just one sentence. Saying only that, he began walking towards the exit of the great hall. Behind him, Diethart's voice rang out. "From this moment, the dissolution of House Fernan is decided! All evidentiary documents will be reported to the King!" The great hall was enveloped in a stir. One by one, the nobles who had supported Lilia hung their heads. Those who had been fawning over her until now began to distance themselves, as if their palms had been flipped. Listening to that commotion at his back, Allen left the great hall. The corridor was quiet. The morning light streaming through the windows illuminated the white stone walls dazzlingly. Allen walked with his hand against the wall. With every step, the wound on his left flank throbbed sharply. (Blood... it's still bleeding.) When he pressed it with his fingers, something red seeped out. The cloth was heavy with blood. Even so, he did not stop his feet. He passed through the kitchen and headed for the back entrance. There was no one to stop him. The back gate of White Hawk Castle. Allen slumped down, leaning his back against the stone wall. The morning light reflecting off the castle's white walls was painful to his eyes. Allen took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. (Is it... over?) He wasn't quite sure himself. His revenge had not been fulfilled. He could not bring the sword down. Lilia was still alive. And yet—. It felt as if the heavy lump deep in his chest had become just a little bit smaller. It was then. "...Allen-san." A small voice called out. He raised his face. Standing there was Era. A young serving girl with her chestnut hair tied back. She was gripping the hem of her white apron tightly. She was the woman who had shown him the way in the passage before he entered the great hall. The same Era who had been driven out of House Fernan two years ago and had handed over the copied ledgers in the lower district. "...Why are you here?" Allen asked in a hoarse voice. "I was... waiting." Era answered quietly. "To see if you would come out safely... I waited here." Allen couldn't say anything. Era approached him without a word. In her hands were a white cloth and a small leather pouch. It smelled of medicinal herbs. "Let me tend to your wounds." She knelt down in front of Allen. Then, she gently lifted his coat. The wound on his left flank was exposed. Cloth soaked thick with blood. Torn flesh. The surrounding skin swollen purple. Era caught her breath for a moment. "...This is terrible." "It's fine." "It is not fine." Era's voice was trembling. Even so, she moved her hands. She soaked the cloth with the herbs taken from the leather pouch and gently pressed it against the wound. It stung. Allen gritted his teeth. Era's fingers touched Allen's flank. Her hands were surprisingly gentle and warm. (...Warm.) For two years, he hadn't been touched by another person. Alone in the mountains. The only time he had contact with people was when he was cutting them down. And yet, now—. Allen closed his eyes. Era continued her treatment in silence. She asked nothing. What happened in the great hall. What became of Lilia. Whether his revenge was fulfilled—. She just silently tended to his wounds. Eventually, a fresh cloth was neatly wrapped around the wound. "...Thank you." The words came out so naturally, it surprised even himself. Era's hands stopped. She raised her face. Her large eyes gazed at Allen. She looked slightly surprised. "...To think you would say thank you, Allen-san." "Is that a problem?" "No." Era gave a small laugh. That smile seemed to shine just a little in the morning light. "...I'm glad." She murmured that and stood up. Allen glanced at her face for just a moment, then immediately returned his gaze to the sky. (...I see.) He felt something small stir deep within his heart. Era said nothing more and stood beside Allen. The wind blew, swaying her chestnut hair. The sky before dawn was a deep indigo. Outside the walls of Legrand. Allen stood alone. He had parted ways with Era, telling her, "I need to be alone for a bit." He gazed towards the northern mountains. The Gronhalt Mountain Range. The place where he had spent two years at the bottom of that cliff. (The stone monument...) The monument of the Volnica tribe that had been inside the cave. The words carved there repeated in his head. —This power always comes with a price. For two years, Allen had never deeply considered that line. Because his head had been filled with nothing but revenge. But now, it was different. That intense headache he felt every time he used Idea Forging. The sensation of exhaustion as if strength was draining from his body. That black light when he had gone berserk in the abandoned house—. (Is that the beginning of the price?) Or is it simply that nothing else has happened yet? Allen didn't know. Furthermore, there was one more thing. The monument did not say the Volnica tribe had been "destroyed." It only said, "We leave this power behind." According to official history, the Volnica tribe was annihilated in the founding war three hundred and fifty years ago. (...Is someone hiding it?) The truth about Volnica. The truth about Idea Forging. Allen looked up at the night sky. The stars flickered faintly. Soon, the eastern sky began to lighten, and the mountain ridges were dyed orange. His revenge was over. The form it took was different from what he had imagined. Even so—a chapter had been closed. But a new question was beginning. What is the price of Idea Forging? What happened to the Volnica tribe? In the light of dawn, Allen took a step forward.

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Episode 7

Name: Killed by the Love I Believed In, I Shatter Everything with a Greatsword
Author: Novelia

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