Immortality stole death from the world—but it could not steal the ruin of the mind. When the heart corrodes beyond repair, only one answer remains: the Rite of Termination, carried out by the pale-eyed Executors of Calm Finis.
Daria has frozen her heart to carry that blade. Emotion is a flaw to be purged, attachment a weakness to be erased—and she has mastered both disciplines better than anyone. But the writ placed in her hands names a target she cannot erase: Ethan, the boy who once broke a s
Executor Dahlia — Before the Last Bell Rings - Thorn's Mockery, Shattered Shell
Late night.
In a room of the ivy-covered dormitory, Daria sat at her desk. Through the window, she could see the greenery of the Garden of Silence tinged pale blue by the moonlight. Each time the wind blew, the faint rustle of ivy leaves reached her room.
On the desk lay several sheets of parchment. They were records of the mind-eater symptoms she had observed over the past few days in her conversations with Ethan.
*(Fragmented speech. Occasional divergence of the left eye. Memory turbidity—)*
Daria ran her quill across the page, sorting through the sense of wrongness deep in her heart. The symptoms certainly resembled the fourth stage. But there was one decisive difference. His madness possessed a clear will. A calculated rationality lay hidden beneath the incoherent words.
*(Is this truly the irreversible fourth stage?)*
Expressionless, she gently touched the silver pattern on her left cheek. Cold. Cold as ice.
At her chest, the shell pendant held a faint warmth.
Request a reassessment.
That was her duty as an Executor. She could not carry out an execution without a proper review. As long as the order lacked a symptom report and an examiner's signature, this case had a systemic flaw.
*(Why did Overseer Lazarus approve this?)*
She set down her pen and gathered the documents. She intended to arrange a messenger to Fortuna first thing in the morning.
Just then—
The presence in the hallway vanished.
Daria's fingers stopped.
Normally, she could faintly hear the voices of the watchful believers. Two of them should have been standing in the hallway tonight as well. But now, an unnatural silence enveloped the outside. As if someone was deliberately holding their breath—
She rose without a sound and moved to the window. She peered outside through a gap in the curtain.
And realized her judgment had been delayed by a moment.
Torchlight surrounded the dormitory.
At a rough glance, thirty. No, forty of them. Cloaks stitched together from rags. Rusted iron pipes and blunt weapons in their hands. The mark of a green thorned ring on their chests—fanatics of Torno de Espina.
A small shadow stood at their head. Fiery red hair tied in twin tails, large light-brown eyes glaring, reflecting the torchlight. A missing piece of her left earlobe. Her freckled cheeks were taut with a distorted grin.
Mia.
" Drag out the enemy of paradise!!"
Her voice shattered the silence of the night.
In an instant, the believers moved as one. Footsteps surged toward the dormitory entrance. The clang of metal striking the walls. Curses, cheers, words of prayer—all mingled into a single mass that shook the darkness.
" Death god!!"
" Drive the defiled Executor from paradise!!"
" For the Founder!!"
Daria made a snap judgment.
*(I can't use the Rite of Finality.)*
An unauthorized execution was the taboo of an "ending too soon." If an Executor violated that, it meant indefinite suspension from duty. And that wasn't all—if she activated the rite here against dozens of opponents, counterattack would be impossible. Without the target's consent, sending a seal into a resisting opponent had almost no chance of success.
More than anything—
*(They aren't mad.)*
She analyzed the situation coolly. The believers might show early symptoms of mind-eater, but they were not fourth-stage targets for execution. They fell outside the Rite of Finality's scope.
She had no choice but to run.
Daria glanced at the documents on her desk and clutched the shell at her chest. Then, she ran silently down the corridor leading to the back door.
Behind her, she heard the front door being smashed in.
Multiple footsteps flooded into the dormitory. Torchlight crawled down the hallway, casting the fanatics' distorted shadows on the walls.
" Where is she, where is the bitch!!"
" Search! Break down every door!!"
Daria dashed down the stairs, heading for the back door on the first floor. The floorboards creaked every time she put weight on her left leg.
*(If I can just get to the alleyways of the ruins—)*
She pushed open the back door.
And at that moment—
"—I've been waiting."
The sound of something cutting through the air.
Daria reflexively tried to dodge. That single instant.
*Shunk—*
A dull impact struck her left shin.
Her bone made a sickening sound.
Daria's vision went white for a moment. Intense pain—no, a shock beyond the sensation of pain, a grinding impact from the core of her body. Unable to even cry out, she collapsed on the spot.
" Ahahahaha!!"
Mia rested the rusted iron pipe on her shoulder, looking down at Daria with an expression of ecstatic joy. Her large, light-brown eyes shone eerily, reflecting the torchlight. Her freckled cheeks lifted in a grin, revealing a glimpse of a chipped front tooth.
" Finally get it, you filthy death god?! Every time you got near the Founder, my chest burned like it was on fire! Don't defile paradise, don't muddy his light—I've wanted to scream that at you forever, forever!!"
Daria clenched her teeth and tried to stand.
Her left leg wouldn't move.
Worse, the slightest pressure sent a nasty sensation running through her—bone fragments scraping together inside her skin. Compound fracture. She couldn't stand on her own.
Expressionless, she crawled and rolled into the alleyway.
" ...Move."
Her voice was flat, devoid of inflection. But cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her bluish, narrow eyes wavered slightly.
" Move? Hah—don't make me laugh."
Mia swung the iron pipe and barked orders at the surrounding believers.
" You lot! Beat this death god to a pulp!! Protect the Founder's paradise!!"
The believers moved all at once.
Stones flew. One hit Daria's shoulder with a dull thud. A shard of glass grazed her cheek, drawing blood. A piece of rusted metal struck her back, making her body jump slightly.
" Die, Executor!!"
" Death god, get out of paradise!!"
" Crawl and cry, you filthy woman!!"
Curses and abuse echoed through the ruins of the night. Voices of ridicule and hatred bounced off the walls, raining down from all directions.
Daria crawled.
Dragging her left leg, bracing herself against the wall, stained with blood and mud, she advanced through the narrow alley. Her fingernails peeled back, her knees scraped raw, her black coat tore.
*(I can't use the Rite of Finality.)*
She told herself.
*(I can't end them.)*
*(I am an Executor. Bound by the system, just a—)*
A stone grazed her temple.
Her vision swam. Blood trickled down her gray hair, dripping.
" Come on, come on, what's wrong! Lady Executor! Why don't you use that oh-so-special Rite of Finality of yours!!"
Mia's taunts echoed through the alley.
Daria didn't answer. She just moved forward. One step, no, even one inch, to escape this encirclement.
But—
The alley was a dead end.
A crumbling concrete wall blocked her path, and the sides were buried in the wreckage of ruins. Even if she tried to turn back, the believers were closing in from behind.
The torchlight crept closer, inch by inch.
Footsteps, curses, and ridicule were amplified as they echoed off the walls.
Daria leaned her back against the wall and steadied her ragged breathing. Blood continued to flow from her left leg, spreading a small stain on the gray cobblestones.
*(This is as far as I go.)*
Expressionless, she looked up at the sky.
And then—
She spotted a figure on the high ground.
The old clock tower of the ruins. A tall man stood on the edge of its crumbling face.
Black hair grown down to his shoulders. Disheveled, tangled, swaying in the wind. Golden eyes—unfocused, yet definitely looking down upon this carnage. A thin smile played on his lips.
Ethan.
A small stone pendant swayed at his neck.
Something creaked deep in Daria's chest.
*(—Will you save me?)*
For an instant, she thought that. No, she ended up thinking it.
The emotions that should have been frozen surfaced.
*(Save me—Ethan.)*
But—
He did not move a muscle.
He just smiled quietly. His lips twisted, satisfied. Like a spectator at a play. Watching this carnage, the fanatics' brutality, Daria's suffering—seeing through it all, and simply gazing.
*This is wrong*, she thought.
*Betrayed.*
Those three characters pierced Daria's heart.
Her head understood. He was the Founder. The leader of Verde Eterna. He had no obligation to stop his believers' actions. If anything, to preserve the order of the cult, he should be on the side of eliminating the Executor.
She understood.
Even so—
*(Why?)*
Her left hand unconsciously clutched the shell at her chest.
*(Why are you smiling—with that face?)*
Until yesterday, in that garden. They had shared memories of their childhood. He had said he had been waiting for her to come. That he wished to end by her hand—he had wished for that.
Was it all the scheme of a madman?
*No*, a voice deep in her heart screamed.
His voice back then had been that of a boy. Using the first-person pronoun "boku," he had definitely spoken to Daria.
But—now, the one smiling atop the clock tower was Ethan the Founder. The Mad Saint. The ruler of an endless paradise.
A contradiction.
Daria couldn't process that contradiction. Her frozen state cracked with an audible sound.
*(Abandoned.)*
Those four characters drained the strength from her body.
She collapsed, crumpling to the ground.
The blood flowing from her left leg spread across the gray cobblestones.
Her consciousness faded.
The believers surrounded Daria.
Someone tore her coat, someone grabbed her hair and yanked her face up. Amid the swirling curses and ridicule, Mia slowly approached.
" Finally shut up, huh."
She crouched in front of Daria and peered into the face of the Executor, who had released her consciousness while remaining expressionless. Her large, light-brown eyes were twisted with sadistic pleasure.
" Like I'd let someone like you end the Founder. He is my light. My—world."
Her voice trembled for just a moment.
" Before the Founder picked me up, I was a stray dog. Days of garbage, where no one called my name. But—he gave me a reason to live. In this paradise, he taught me that decay is beautiful."
And then, her eyes blazed with madness once more.
" That's why you're in the way!! Anyone who wishes for his end, anyone who clings to his kindness—all of you, go to hell!!"
At that moment—
Her gaze stopped on something shining at Daria's chest.
The shell pendant.
Reflecting the torchlight, it glowed white and faint. The leather cord was frayed, unraveling in places. Proof that she had kept it close to her skin for long, long years.
" ...What's this?"
Mia carelessly grabbed the pendant and tore it off.
The leather cord snapped, leaving a red line across Daria's neck.
" What, it's just a shell. This piece of junk—"
She showed it off to her fellow believers.
" Look at this, the Lady Executor's precious little thing. A good luck charm for a worm clinging to the Founder!!"
The believers raised a jeer.
" Pathetic!!"
" You thought something like that would protect you?!"
Mia slammed the shell against the ground.
*Crack—*
A crisp, satisfying sound echoed through the night alley.
White fragments scattered.
She persistently crushed the pieces under her foot. A grinding, scraping sound as her sole pulverized them. The small shards became even smaller, turning to powder.
" Serves you right, death god!! This is what you get for defiling paradise!!"
An ecstatic smile spread across her face. A pure cruelty, like a young dog that had killed its first prey.
The shattered fragments of the shell scattered into the pool of Daria's blood.
The white shards, stained with blood, clung to the gray cobblestones like red flower petals.
The torchlight illuminated them eerily.
" You lot, throw her into the underground water source."
Mia ordered the believers.
" Teach her never to crawl back up."
Several believers carelessly lifted Daria's body. Her blood-soaked form swayed like a sack. Her left leg was be
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