There are various decisive reasons for failing in battle, you know.
Simply put, it’s about numbers. Generally, the side with more troops has the upper hand. If the ‘many’ possess sufficient strength, they can combine forces to face off against individuals who are stronger than themselves.
However, the leadership of the Papal State miscalculated that ‘sufficient strength’ part.
As the Emperor swung his sword, the blood that clung to the golden blade dripped down, plop plop. Surely, gold is a soft metal, yet the sword wielded by the Emperor seemed to slice through the Papal knights with ease, as if the differences between such metals were negligible.
If it had been just the Emperor alone, perhaps it could have been managed somehow. No matter how skilled and powerful he is, he’s ultimately human. There are limits to those abilities, after all.
But—
“Anto, Nio….”
One knight barely managed to call out that name.
Of course, that knight met their end, pierced by the ‘Sword of Jericho’.
“It was from the very beginning… from the start, wasn’t it?”
The voice of a frail old man could be heard.
When the Emperor turned his head, there sat a small, elderly man who seemed at least 90 years old. The papal robes he wore were luxurious, intricately embroidered with beautiful golden threads on pure white fabric, yet the old man hidden beneath it only seemed pitiful to the Emperor.
“Oh, Your Holiness.”
The Emperor spoke with a smile on his lips as he turned to the Pope.
“Of course. To make a plan, one must firm it up from the beginning, no? In fact, it seems you were the ones who let your guard down. Honestly, I never intended for my son to come this deeply here. If my daughter hadn’t shown such capability, just surveying the internal structure would have sufficed.”
The man called ‘Antonio’ lifted his head as he pulled his sword out of the knight he had just stabbed.
It was Damien.
“…Then, what about the incident where your other son attacked this place—”
“Oh, that was truly a coincidence. I’ll have him apologize for his rudeness.”
The Emperor placed a hand on his chest and slightly bowed his head, expressing his regrets.
“Honestly, at that time, I thought I might need to alter my plans. It was fortunate that brotherly bonds were strong.”
“To be precise.”
Damien, who had silently walked closer to the Emperor, said.
“I happened to escape and survive. All the knights around me died, allowing me to slip away without suspicion; otherwise, they might have noticed my presence here.”
“Well, you could say that at least you have some sense of honor for not revealing everything.”
“…I think it’s simply because there were no witnesses left around.”
At the Emperor’s laughter, Damien replied seriously.
Then, a moment later, he bowed his head toward the Emperor.
“…But in the end, we lost the artifact. No matter how many times I apologize for this—”
“It’s alright.”
The Emperor patted Damien on the shoulder.
“In the end, that artifact has come into my possession. Looking at it from a broader perspective, haven’t my two sons brought me the item I sought after?”
Saying this, the Emperor took out the ‘gear’ from his robe.
The perfectly crafted gear, engraved with stunning blue symbols, shined beautifully.
“…And the rest was brought to me by my daughter.”
Clonk.
Someone nearby seemed like they wanted to respond, but merely let out a soft cough near the Emperor.
“….”
The Emperor lowered his gaze to the bloodied—girl wearing a white mask.
Her body was marred with wounds, all of them serious and deep. If left as is, she would soon succumb to blood loss.
Frankly, given her state, it seemed strange that she was still alive.
There was a gaping wound on her abdomen. Her innards were spilling out, and embedded within them were screws and small gears, as if some mechanism had once been there.
The Emperor quietly gazed at the being he called ‘daughter’ and slowly opened his mouth.
“I have failed in that future, haven’t I?”
The words that left his mouth were of a kind not understood by the perpetrator.
“The ancient Fanggriffon’s mechanical device was designed to operate solely with the power of the Fanggriffon. It was an idea conceived by the first Fanggriffon, who rebelled against the Goddess’s plan to take freedom and will from humans and fit them into her ‘perfect order.’ To realize some of its capabilities, part of it needed ‘the body of a Fanggriffon.'”
The Emperor gently kneeled beside the masked girl and tenderly embraced her, letting her lean against him.
Even while removing the mask, the girl remained completely still.
“Isn’t that right, Alice?”
Gulp, a sound came that carried no meaning whatsoever.
Ignoring the blood splattered on his face, the Emperor gently swept the girl’s hair aside.
“I almost succeeded in that future, yet ultimately failed. As a result, within the repeating world, no one realized that the world had turned even once. And in the future, I must have wondered: how can I seize the next opportunity? How can I win? Isn’t that right, my daughter? I certainly would have thought that way.”
The light from the blue eyes gazing up at the Emperor was fading.
“It was you who tried to kill yourself. And you who resisted so fiercely in front of me. I can understand that much.”
The Emperor smiled down at his gasping daughter.
“But that doesn’t mean I wish to lose. I have always lived with the desire to win.”
“Why?”
The question came not from the ‘Alice’ in his arms.
“Why go so far with that sword? Does your name as the Fanggriffon hold such importance?”
“Well.”
The Emperor cautiously laid ‘Alice’ down on the ground and stood up.
Then, he glared at his son—Lucas, who was speaking in such an informal manner.
“Are you asking why I want to win?”
“That’s right.”
Lucas’s voice came along with rapidly moving footsteps.
The first to move was Damien, closest to the Emperor, who jumped in front and said—
“That’s enough. Step aside.”
As the Emperor lightly pushed his shoulder, Damien took a surprised step back, trembling.
Afterward, Bella and Jayden rushed in. The Emperor, having explicitly told them to step aside, did not block their path, but they stood ready to swing their swords at any moment.
Lucas seemed indifferent to the three of them and continued to stare at the Emperor.
“It’s the same reason you wield your sword.”
“…To become the strongest?”
“That depends on where you derive that strength from.”
The Emperor took a step forward, smiling at Lucas.
“Lucas, you see, it brings me joy to be an Emperor.”
“….”
“When I issue a command, thousands of soldiers march, shaking the earth. Thousands of humans, each whose life is valued equally to mine, march forth into hell, solely trusting my command. Sacrificing their lives for me. It’s tragic. Hence, I am always compelled to produce results that match the value of those lives.”
With no sign of caution, the Emperor took another step toward Lucas.
“Isn’t it thrilling? My single gesture, my words shape the flow of the era. Don’t you understand that?”
“….”
“Right, at first, I might have thought I should become someone worthy of the name Fanggriffon. But not anymore. The first Fanggriffon loved chaos. That the weak and the strong intertwine, that one could topple another purely through sword clashes—not through purity or virtue, but through words, collaboration, schemes, and betrayal to take down the strong.”
Long, long ago.
In an era where order had yet to be established, the first Emperor reigned supreme as the leader of the gryphons despite his grotesque body.
Thus, he earned the name Fanggriffon.
“He wished that beautiful chaos would never come to an end.”
“If so, does Father desire the great chaos to return? To revive the glory of the first Fanggriffon?”
“No.”
The Emperor responded.
“I have no interest in such things. Order, chaos—none of that matters to me. I simply enjoy my current position all too much. Fighting alongside those who, for reasons unknown, received the Goddess’s selection, despite my blood mixing with the Fanggriffon’s, is immensely pleasurable. Creating and executing new plans is fun, and digging traps and waiting is just delightful. Yes, I have come to believe this is my reason for living.”
And the Emperor laughed.
A smile so pure, it resembled that of a child.
“Are you not curious? If I could perfectly control the Goddess’s power, how great the joy I could experience next would be? Thus, in the end, my pursuits aren’t so different from yours, my son.”
The Emperor spread his arms wide.
“To place this world beneath my feet and to slowly and surely amend the places I believe I was wronged—how much I look forward to that day. Perhaps I may even be able to fulfill the deficiencies of your past, too.”
“…….”
“Um.”
Before Lucas could respond to the Emperor’s words, a clanging sound from outside the door echoed. The sound of knights from the Papal State clad in armor charging in.
“It seems the synchronized attack with my daughter has reached its limit here. It looks like they’ve decided to give up on that side.”
“…Did Sylvia agree to this synchronized attack?”
The Emperor merely smiled at Lucas.
“Then, Your Holiness.”
The Emperor turned to look at the Pope, who seemed to gaze up at him blankly, despite the considerable distance between them, as if overwhelmed.
“Where is that incomplete machine you’ve been hiding, Your Holiness? I would like to move on to the final stage soon. Of course, we welcome the knights outside as well. Surely, you don’t believe I came all this way with just this few people?”
“…….”
Thus, the Papal State miscalculated the Empire’s ‘strength’.
It wasn’t just raw power or strategy; they ought to have understood something more fundamental, the Pope thought at that moment.
Something more fundamental than that.
Yes, perhaps—
The conviction they believed was theirs alone.
One that could not possibly be understood, yet unyielding; they should have realized that the Emperor possessed that conviction, too.
*
Beyond the fading field of vision.
Listening to the conversation shared between the Emperor and those children, the being once called Alice was suddenly reminded of something.
Click click click.
In her head rang the sound of gears turning, within the sound of interlocking gears.
Right now, this moment itself turned as if it were perfectly matching the blueprint of gears someone had laid out.
This moment lying on the cold floor was precisely what she needed to be, a component that makes up the world.
Above her—
In the void where she resided, a feeling washed over her that she had glimpsed a pale blue light.
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