“Are you all right, my friend?”
At Vitalianus’s question, Ataulf nodded.
His neck was swathed in white bandages, and he forced a smile.
“I’m fi……”
“Now, now. Don’t speak. It’s fortunate the Order happened to be nearby. You might have lost your voice forever.”
He had barely managed to avoid it, but the last desperate struggle of the Luxen liberation activist—a man from a terrorist group masquerading as one—had cut deep into Ataulf’s vocal cords.
Still, they said that if he continued receiving treatment and rested, he would be able to speak again.
Because it was a fairly large city, there was a branch of the Order, and by chance a bishop-rank priest capable of using divine power had been present. That was the only reason it had ended at this much. It had truly been dangerous.
“There will be no training for a while, so get plenty of rest.”
Vitalianus turned his back.
To think he had nearly died so pointlessly to the final struggle of an opponent they had all but captured.
The words that it was unlike him, that he had let his guard down, almost slipped out, but he barely held them back.
What did it mean for something to be unlike him?
Perhaps this was, in fact, what was most like him.
Affectionate and tender-hearted. Hadn’t his reason for wanting to become a hero been not for his own glory, but to erase the stigma of others?
“No matter what anyone says, you are already a hero.”
And so, that was all he could say.
* * *
After receiving treatment and having his bandages changed, Ataulf left the castle.
He walked through the city that had been ruined by the terror attack, and wherever his strength was needed, he used his ability without hesitation.
Though he had been advised to refrain from using his power as much as possible until his wound healed, he did not waver.
Was this not a tragedy caused by Luxen?
Before the furrow of resentment deepened further, before the chain of hatred lengthened even more, he had to resolve it himself.
He had to try harder.
For several days, his wound split open and healed, and the blood-soaked bandages were changed again.
Officially, Ataulf’s name spread throughout the city.
It was not because he had announced it. The Empire itself had publicized that Ataulf had been the one responsible for suppressing this terrorist attack.
It was to commend him and have many people praise him. Surely his knight order, and Vitalianus in particular, had lent their support.
But the situation did not unfold as they had expected.
“Ataulf? That knight from Luxen?”
“This latest attack was carried out by those damned Luxen bastards, and the one who stopped it was a knight from Luxen?”
“Does that make any sense? Those bastards must have conspired together……”
“I knew they arrived too late! From what I heard, they had obtained information in advance……”
“They said he uses an ominous black mist, and sure enough……”
What returned for his heroic actions was suspicion.
When many suspicions gathered, they became conviction. It had a name: confirmation bias.
Of course, they could not raise those voices openly.
“I, Vitalianus Mahel, swear upon my name and my life.”
Because his friend stepped forward.
“There was no falsehood in Ataulf’s actions. He is a hero who saved this city from an indiscriminate terror attack. No one shall tarnish his honor.”
The Mahel family, an old and venerable house of the Empire.
And among them, the presence of Vitalianus, a rising star, was immense.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Ataulf smiled at Vitalianus.
He felt rather miserable, but he knew the heart his friend bore toward him.
Before the endlessly vast vessel of Vitalianus’s character, he could not bring himself to reveal the heart rotting away inside him, and so he forced a smile.
“Think nothing of it. We promised, didn’t we? That we would become heroes together.”
At Vitalianus’s words, however, he found himself turning his head away before he knew it.
Because he could not possibly smile.
* * *
Once the wound on his neck had completely healed, Ataulf was sent back on missions.
The terrorist activities carried out under the name of the Luxen liberation movement became even more severe from that day onward.
In the terror they committed, not even the name Luxen could be heard. It was simply massacre filled with hatred.
Their cause had vanished long ago, and what remained was an endless chain of hatred.
Imperial citizens hated Luxens. Those from Luxen hated imperial citizens. It was a hatred so tangled and complicated that it could no longer be unraveled.
There was now only one way to untangle that knot, twisted together by countless hatreds.
A one-sided slaughter by one side. Since the knotted cord could not be untied, the cord on the other side would simply be eliminated.
And naturally, the side that would be eliminated was Luxen, and the side that would eliminate it was the Empire.
“Kill them! You filthy Imperial vermin!”
“Die! Die!”
Eyes blinded by hatred. There was only one thing Ataulf could do.
He closed their eyes with black mist.
“Black mist!”
“Ataulf! You filthy traitor!”
Yet as they died, they cursed Ataulf.
“Imperial dog, Ataulf!”
“You will never die in peace!”
“You, too, will end up suffering the same miserable fate as us and be discarded! Ataulf!”
Ataulf was not shaken.
He simply did what he had to do in silence.
In his mind, only the man’s question echoed.
—Why us! Why! Why! What did we do so wrong!
It was a question he would never know the answer to for the rest of his life.
“Thank you, Sir Knight.”
After the terror attack had been suppressed, a child timidly approached and bowed his head.
In his small hands was an armful of wildflowers, which he suddenly held out.
For the first time in a very long while, a faint smile appeared on Ataulf’s lips.
And so, reaching out toward the flowers, he said to the child,
“Thank you.”
It was a voice so grotesque that it made the fine hairs stand on end. A chilling voice, like metal scraping against metal.
It was a glorious scar earned from saving an entire city, and a symbol of honor with not a single speck of shame.
“U-uaaah!”
The child burst into tears and collapsed where he stood. The white wildflowers fell and scattered across the ground, and Ataulf’s hand, its destination gone, stopped rigidly in midair.
At that moment, the black mist that always hovered around him surged.
“H-Hanel!”
The child’s mother hurried over, took the child, and retreated as if fleeing.
In the glance she cast back, there was no admiration or gratitude toward a hero. It was filled only with fear.
“……”
Ataulf straightened from where he had lowered himself, as if nothing had happened.
The faint smile that had been there left not even a trace, and with his gaze fixed only ahead, he walked.
With one step he took, the white wildflowers were trampled underfoot.
No particular thought came to him.
In his mind, only the earnest question of the nameless man repeated once more.
—What did we do so wrong!
He could no longer quite distinguish whether that repeating voice belonged to the man or to himself.
“……”
Vitalianus, who had watched all of it from a short distance away, could say nothing either.
What could he say? Where had it begun to go wrong, and what had gone wrong?
He could not blame the child, nor could he reproach the mother.
And yet there had to be an answer.
Think. Let’s think.
If he took his time and thought it through slowly, he would surely be able to resolve this tangled situation.
* * *
Some time passed, and the fame of Vitalianus and Ataulf, the two of them, continued to grow.
Of course, the label of knight from Luxen always followed Ataulf.
His strength had grown as much as his fame. The black mist became Ataulf’s symbol, and its density deepened further still.
Together with his chilling voice, there was that ominous-looking black mist.
Naturally, rumors began to circulate.
Ataulf’s black mist grows by feeding on people’s emotions.
Ataulf’s black mist grows by feeding on misfortune.
Ataulf’s black mist grows stronger with death as its nourishment.
Naturally, none of it was true. It was not ominous, nor did he use some sinister power.
It was simply one of his skills, a power that grew as he gained fame.
Vitalianus went out of his way to correct the misunderstanding, but there was no sign that it worked.
People whispered that Ataulf’s inner self must be wicked.
There were even those who confidently declared that he was hiding an evil nature and would one day let it burst.
Perhaps they were hoping that he would.
An ominous black mist and a grotesque voice. On top of that, the label of being from Luxen.
Was he not the very picture of a villain?
“Their scale has grown larger than expected.”
Amid such circumstances, the terrorist group had grown beyond imagination.
Composed mostly of people from Luxen, it had now become a massive criminal organization and bound itself tightly together.
“It seems they have made up their minds. They are appearing all over the Empire and carrying out indiscriminate terror attacks.”
What was born in that way was none other than—
“They call themselves the Black Children.”
The criminal organization, the Black Children.
“A gathering of small fry only makes them easier to sweep away.”
However, what they had to face was the Imperial army, led by Vitalianus and Ataulf.
If they so wished, they could sweep them away at any time.
The Empire judged the Black Children to be dangerous elements and declared war. Naturally, Vitalianus and Ataulf took part.
Screams, resentment, and hatred ran rampant.
The Empire was a tidal wave, and the Black Children standing before it were nothing but a sandcastle. For them, forming one united group had instead become poison.
At last, the long chain of hatred seemed to have its end in sight.
…But who was it that said this?
That misfortune has no eyes. That it can befall anyone.
Those words were wrong.
Misfortune has eyes.
And they are cruel eyes that look only toward Ataulf.
Otherwise, this could not have happened.
What appeared before Ataulf after he returned from the long expedition was the cold corpses of his family.
“When we found them, they were already……”
They said the mansion had already burned, and his entire family had been brutally murdered.
They said they could not identify who had done it.
They said they could not know whether it had been the work of Imperial citizens who hated Luxen.
Or whether it had been the work of the Black Children, taking advantage of Ataulf’s absence.
Did that make any sense?
It was something that had happened in the middle of the capital.
No, perhaps the truth was that no one really cared.
It was unfortunate, yes, but well, wasn’t it something that had happened to someone from Luxen?
“Hahaha……”
Ataulf burst into laughter.
He had saved a city.
What returned was insult.
He had saved a family.
What returned was fear.
He had stepped forward for his country.
What returned was the horrifically mutilated corpses of his family.
He had sought to become a hero and wash away the stigma.
Now there was no need for that.
What had I done so wrong?
What should I have done?
“Haha……”
On that day, when the act of searching for answers to such questions no longer mattered.
—What did we do so wrong!
On that day, when for the first time, the man’s voice that had continued to ring in his head was no longer heard.
Ataulf vanished.
At the same time, the remaining remnants of the Black Children also disappeared without a trace.
What was seen in their place was black mist.
A terribly dense black mist, stained with hatred.
People spoke in one voice.
Tsk, tsk. What did I tell you? I knew he would turn out like that.
He looked ominous and wicked from the first time I saw him.
Filthy Luxen bastard.
A hero? As if. He was a villain after all.
And so, Ataulf fulfilled everyone’s wish.
The man who could not become a hero ultimately became a villain.
The hatred of a man who did not know what to resent had turned toward the world.
* * *
Steel and steel.
Sword and sword.
Or perhaps will and will.
The sound of them colliding with all their might always gave much inspiration.
Enough to dredge up very old memories.
Clang—
Sword met sword, and one of them flew far away.
It was the moment when victor and loser were decided.
Vitalianus spoke.
“I’m sorry, my friend.”
His mouth was filled with pooled blood.