50.1_Gambit of ideals

Chapter 50.1: Ode to Life and Death

[Ragnorr POV]

The device meticulously crafted by Lady Uriel, tirelessly working through the nights, has finally come to fruition—a means to manipulate the intangible force of "gravity." It is a concept I've never encountered before, diverging from conventional moral-based theories. Instead, it relies on empirical evidence and experimentation, seeking to prove and disprove in a single stroke.

"Now, let us commence. I grow weary of waiting," Yawn, the royal messenger growls. Assessing the two individuals who have proven themselves most worthy of lending their strength. Mikhail has never said anything and neither Uriel has objected to anything.

Doubt lingers within me regarding their true abilities, despite the reverence bestowed upon them by the previous king. The librarian, in particular, has never demonstrated any noteworthy action, while the royal messenger possesses an enigmatic shapeshifting ability.

They both seem to exist within their own distorted realm, perpetually aloof and indifferent, perhaps looking down upon me as a mere puppet ruler in place of Mikhail.

With Uriel having input the precise coordinates of the paradise castle, I press the activation panel. From the safety of the observation post, I witness the dramatic descent of the realm known to be the threshold between God's servants and the mortal plane beneath. The rupture resounds across the mountain ranges, engulfing valleys and sweeping away the snowy landscapes.

"Let us proceed. Ragnorr, accompany me as we establish the cycle severer." Uriel urges me to advance through the dust and clouds. While Uriel and I advance to initiate the strategic assault, the royal messenger and the librarian shall ward off any interloper.

The time for action has arrived, and every decision made now holds the weight of our destiny. As we embark on this perilous endeavor, I must ensure that our forces are positioned optimally and our strategies flawlessly executed. The fate of our kingdom hinges on our meticulous planning and swift execution.

Mikhail also provided a special spell to weaken the enemy's army, it will only be triggered when both battles on the west and east started. The light on Uriel's arrow and Gabriel's bloody terrain shall be the signal of activation.

The west gate stands under the vigilant watch of the fourth archangel, who has invested considerable effort into fortifying its structure. As for the unpredictable mad dog, renowned for his efficiency, I am particularly concerned about the non-aggressive encounter that lies ahead.

"It appears we are not alone within these halls," Uriel remarks, her gaze shifting toward the shadows that silently loom across the hallway. They are the cherubim, products of twisted experiments or grotesque chimeras combining various forms of living creatures. Serpent heads, goat bodies, and human-like limbs with wings—an unholy creation born from the mind of a madman.

With the authority of 'Descendant of sloth,' amplified by the spell 'Noctrume,' I summon a sweeping sandstorm that engulfs and subdues these menacing killing machines. The ease with which they are subdued raises an inexplicable sense of unease, stirring a lingering sense of paranoia within me.

"The preparations are complete. I will proceed to launch the light arrow," Uriel announces, but before our eyes, an unforeseen event unfolds. A scythe slices through her arm, severing her right limb. The wounds refuse to heal, and the regrown limb darkens and corrodes into dust, leaving only a grim reminder of what once was.

"Ash, librarian! Uriel has lost her arm. Please provide immediate support while I complete the signal," I command, as a gust of wind propels them forward, not to attend to Uriel's injuries, but to confront the assailant responsible.

With my rainbow string bow in hand, I release a single arrow into the sky. The trail of twilight cuts through the cloudless expanse, shimmering with stardust in its wondrous radiance.

"Lady Uriel, can you still continue?" I inquire, my eyes fixated on her decaying arm lying on the ground. This unforeseen circumstance requires adjustments to our initial plan, but I am determined to make the necessary accommodations for her incapability.

"Of course, I must repay their sins tenfold," she replies resolutely. With those words, she takes a seed and plants it into the wound where her arm once was. To my amazement, the seedling rapidly grows, transforming into a wooden arm-like husk.

"This frail substitute shall serve as my strongest limb in this situation. We cannot allow them to have all the fun. Join me, Ragnorr," She urges, and together we continue our journey into the increasingly ominous hall.

Standing before us is the infamous Azazel, the loyal dog of the first archangel. His human appearance belies his immense rage, towering at nearly six feet tall. Wielding two menacing scythes, Azazel taunts Ash and the librarian, provoking them to engage within the limited space between them.

"The treacherous traitor still breathes! Perhaps I have grown complacent after claiming the souls of the soul of that homunculus," Azazel jeers. His scythes clash with Ash's sharpened claws, igniting a burst of fiery confrontation. As Azazel's flesh is torn apart, his pained screams intermingle with maniacal laughter.

"Have you relished in their suffering? You needn't lift a finger to experiment with the most intriguing subjects at your disposal," the librarian remarks, deftly twisting Azazel's wrists, rendering them useless as his rapid healing tries to keep up.

"Oh my, librarian. Your drool is showing, but can't blame you to be the only one since I am also curious about how can I rips them from this Canidae" With a swift motion, Ash slices through Azazel's limbs effortlessly, reveling in the sight and taste of his blood.

A sudden disruption in the fabric of time momentarily halts our advance, leaving us bewildered. I am certain that everyone in this battle experiences these intermittent gaps, causing minutes to vanish inexplicably. What could be the cause of this peculiar phenomenon?

Azazel, without the slightest hesitation, closes in on me, targeting the seemingly weakest among us. His scythes dance perilously close to my vulnerable form, threatening to sever the very thread of my life.

"Demonic creature, have you ever experienced remorse for taking another's life?" The mad dog integrates me. Knowing that this is where our plan comes into play, a fabricated confession from the librarian and the activation of Ash's authority. I had hoped for a more honorable conclusion to this battle, but circumstances have left us with few options.

Suddenly, the sky ruptures, shrouding everything in darkness. It is the opportune moment for Kryos to cease his wavering, as the spell enhances my body with each surge of mana coursing through my veins. I must gamble on breaking Azazel's resolve, weakening him for a chance at victory. With this newfound wellspring of power, I believe I can make it possible.

"Regrettably for you, I have never taken a life. Can the same be said for you, Azazel, the rabid hound?" I reply, invoking the living spell that manifests my authority, and begin to exert my presence.

[ Dim the stars, await the universe's rebirth

Bind their feet, etch their deepest sorrow

Punish the ignorant, fools roam the earth

Let despair reign, the kingdom hollowed tomorrow]

['Incubones Insurrectionis Defectus']

In the realm of ethereal twilight, a majestic eclipse casts its shadows upon the ebony mire, emanating an enchanting allure befitting of my royal authority. The culmination of a lifelong endeavor, my spell has come to fruition, weaving a web of destruction that ensnares even the immortal.

Echoes of countless wails resonate from the depths of purgatory, haunting both the sinner and the innocent, their ethereal specters seeking retribution against the living executioner who should have long perished. These hands, stained with the crimson tides of bloodshed, shall not escape the swift justice that awaits them.

"The burden of my sins weighs heavier than any mortal or departed soul. I have long made peace with the absence of forgiveness," Azazel stumbles before me, his form cloaked in the blackened mud, an embodiment of monstrous archangelic power.

"Yet, those words kindle a burning rage within me, daring to besmirch the sanctity of their demise. For this sacrilege, I shall orchestrate a demise for you most excruciating." Azazel advanced, poised to strike. The feeble attempt is easily evaded, but an unforeseen force disrupts my evasion, impeding the unseen trajectory of his attack.

['Last judgment']

A resounding tick fills the air as the blade grazes my flesh, rendering my legs devoid of sensation. My companions from the heat of battle, for a moment further to recover from such an enigmatic state. Ash conjures such a complex spell, through the haze that clouds my vision; I strain to discern their intentions, sluggishly moving for my withering life.

"There exists a fabled tale of my predecessor, for I am not the first to tread this path and inherit the legacy of Lord Azazel. A dire fate awaits those who walk the final mission under the name 'Azazel'. It surpasses the mere concept of death." Blood stains his lips as he takes faltering steps forward, shedding vulnerability like a rabid hound. Curiously, fatigue permeates my being, sapping my strength.

"In his refusal to succumb to the wrong path, my predecessor devised a mechanism embedded within Lord Azazel's legacy. My last judgment shall inflict upon you the torment of the most abominable demise." Uriel lunges, her blade aimed at the heart of the deranged beast, yet her strike arrives too late as it has drawn its last breath. I underestimated the stakes, recklessly seeking accolades in this perilous encounter.

"Stolas, find something immediately. We can't let the child die in our care, they will scold us until the end of time."

"Pushing me, aren't you? Surely looking at the curses and illness shall be more of your authority, wouldn't it Caim?"

As the twilight of existence shrouds my every breath, they persist in their ceaseless squabbles. How fortunate I am to have these two as my trusted companions in this tumultuous battle, rather than someone close who would be shattered by witnessing my foolishness.

Lady Uriel, you must harbor hope for the new dawn that our little sovereign endeavors to forge. Time slips through my fingers, leaving little room for further words...

"This appears to be our final farewell. No need for sentimentality, for I alone am to blame for my recklessness." I bid my last farewell before the insidious curse begins devouring my final vestiges of life. At least she has ample time to initiate the severing of the cycle.

['Equivalent exchange']

"But there shall be no farewell, not so soon. There are still matters on which I seek your counsel." A peculiar radiance envelops us, as the curse's dormant effects wane. As my strength returns, Uriel, too, loses a portion of her own.

"What have you done? You should not have borne the weight of my carelessness. Rise!" I implore Uriel, yet she laughs. Of course, one yearning for death remains unfazed by such sacrifice. There must be something I can do.

"You are excessively noisy for one who has recently returned from death. I have paid my due share of livelihood for you, but I am not so benevolent as to relinquish it all." Uriel elucidates the concept of her authority—a variation of the fundamental law of alchemy that lacks defined boundaries.

The lifespan of an elf is shorter than that of a demon, but it remains manageable. There are thousands of years ahead, time still on my side to uncover the slightest morsels of my theories. Yet, I cannot idly stand by while someone offers up half of their life to me without remuneration.

"It was undoubtedly gracious, and my gratitude endures. Thus, I propose a proposition." I speak, while those two, their true identities revealed, flounder in panic. Perhaps, in this crucial moment, their silence would have been more prudent.

"You are in no position to negotiate, yet I grant you this opportunity." Uriel huffs, and for the first time, I see cracks in her regal facade, her high and mighty visage momentarily faltering.

"Should we bring an end to this archaic era of the first archangel, I would willingly renounce my title as prince and pledge my unwavering allegiance to you, my lady, wherever your path may lead." It appears my proposition has struck a chord within her emotional depths.

"Very well, you lovebirds. Allow us to transport you back. Stolas, secure the misguided one. I shall accompany the valiant one." Ash... no, Caim seizes me, while Stolas retrieves Uriel, and together, we flee the ravaged castle.

As the eclipse persists, a flush of embarrassment tinges on my cheeks, having confessed my true feelings. In my heart, I yearn for him to release me into the open sky, to let me meet my demise. But the time has not yet come, for those two still wage their battle within the castle, fighting for their ideals. I should not stand in their way

The end

So take heed, dear mentor, and mentorship trainee,

The gambit of mentorship is not to be taken lightly,

For though the outcome may be fought fiercely and rightly,

Remember the true purpose, to grow and become as free.