Chapter 86: Chapter 86

Dario was dragging a large birdcage wrapped in a black cloth up the hill.

Dario panted for breath. Carrying it would have been much easier, but he didn't have the strength to withstand the bird's flapping. After dropping the cage again and again, he ended up dragging it.

"Can... can we... together?"

His words trailed off. Royce was walking far ahead, a huge crossbow slung over his shoulder—much bigger than his own body.

Royce glanced back indifferently. He was a boy notable for his distinctly double-lidded eye on one side.

Dario looked at Royce's drowsy eyes and inwardly resented him.

'Why did he pick me all of a sudden?'

Royce, who was assigned the sniper mission on the hilltop, specifically chose Dario to be his spotter.

They'd never even properly talked, let alone worked together.

Royce was a hound deployed on real missions, while Dario was mainly in charge of chores and support roles.

Royce skillfully found a position. Even to Dario, who didn't know much, this looked like a good spot for sniping.

"Now, release the bird."

Royce spoke as he adjusted the sight. Dario, having uncovered the cage, brought his hand to the latch.

"If you open it here, our location might get found out. Go over there."

Dario hesitated after taking about ten steps. He called out quietly to Royce, but Royce just waved his hand without looking back, signaling him to go further.

In the end, dario opened the cage a good distance away. Royce, concealed in the bushes, was too far to be seen.

The crow burst energetically out of the birdcage. Its cry swept over the quiet Mountain.

Seeing the signal, the troops below would soon begin to move. Dario grew anxious for no reason. Clutching his pounding Heart, he dashed back toward Royce.

Royce was aiming down below, the butt of the crossbow tight against his shoulder. He didn't move an inch. He seemed as if he'd been stuffed to become part of the environment.

Dario held his breath unconsciously. Ducking down, he looked below.

He could make out a large house made of wood. The watchtower on the corner was covered with a tent, so he couldn't see inside.

Swallowing nervously, dario glanced at Royce. It was clearly a long distance. It was strange to think that Royce, who just yesterday was laughing and playing with the children, was now doing something .

"This is your first time on site, right?"

Dario flinched at the sudden question. Royce maintained the same posture.

"That corn stew the other day was good. You made it, huh?"

"Eden's parents were branded as heretics by the Special Unit and were killed unjustly."

"Corbinian was originally the young master of a noble family. But his father, the lord, exposed a Priest's corruption, and in return, the family was branded as rebels by the Emperor and ruined."

"Renard, too. His father refused to pay the tribute the Church demanded and was accused of treason for it—eventually, he was executed."

Dario's face grew hot. Back when he was in the Holy Church, he didn't know any of this. To him, the Holy Church had been a pure white world, untouched by a single stain.

He only realized there was a filthy underside after joining Zima's group.

"That's just a very small part! Most people never set out to deceive our Lord..."

"Shh. I know. Any garden has flowers, but also weeds, and sometimes rotten apples."

A heavy silence fell. A refreshing breeze blew, ruffling Royce's hair as it passed by.

Dario muttered softly.

"Is that why you brought me here?"

"'They all have a story that explains them, so you should understand'—is that it?"

"More than that, I wanted to show you—how the kids fight with their Lives on the line."

"D-do I have to see that? Why? I hate violence."

"Thanks to that, you get your daily bread."

Dario's eyes widened. Royce, watching through his sight, continued.

"We didn't kill people because we wanted to from the start. We just realized it along the way—that only by sticking together with those carrying poison could we survive."

"Besides, the words of your Lord, that you keep preaching, only serve to weaken everyone's Heart. They dull the edge of the blade."

"That's just an excuse."

"I won't deny it. But Dario, watch carefully—see how hard we struggle."

"We've already lost too much. We don't want to lose anything more."

Royce's pupils suddenly narrowed like a beast's.

At the edge of his vision, a donkey appeared. A man, his limbs bound and his face covered in black cloth, trembled atop it.

The operation had begun.

"Dario. The moment I fire, reload immediately. Just fit it onto the shaft. Don't forget to keep your head down."

Royce slowly stopped his breathing. He had learned the basics of shooting from Zima, but he'd figured out the nuances on his own. He had talent.

The deeper his concentration, the more his bodily senses faded. His vision expanded infinitely. Royce wasn't looking through his own eyes, but had become part of nature, observing everything.

As the donkey carrying the bait wandered nearby, a soldier from the enemy hideout approached.

An arrow fired by Armand from behind the bait struck the soldier's head, and then another arrow from the other side pierced the bait's chest.

A moment later, the sound of arrows cutting through the air resonated in crossing patterns.

As the two men fell, an arrow shot from Royce's crossbow.

He had traced the trajectory of the arrow that hit the bait precisely in reverse.

The arrow pierced the tent of one of the watchtowers.

Royce knew he'd hit his mark.

There was still one enemy sniper left. The rest of the bait was deployed to draw him out.

Royce maintained his rhythm.

"Am I? Am I a witness of faith?"

Dario's muttering voice could be heard.

"Here is your servant, a true evangelist. Please, grant me courage to punish the treacherous..."

Below, the bait was distracting the enemies. If they didn't find the sniper in time, their brothers' Lives would be in danger.

Royce didn't take his eyes off his target. Sniping was a chain of breathing, focus, and firing that flowed seamlessly.

The moment you become aware that you need to concentrate, you've already lost your focus.

He had great talent, but he still didn't have enough experience to cope well with unexpected situations.

"Aaah! I shall not be deceived! Those who exploit the Lord's compassion with their slippery tongues must be punished—!"

Dario tackled Royce with his whole body, pinning him down and choking him.

The bushes they'd used for cover shook violently, and the crossbow tumbled down the cliff.

"D-Dario?! What are you doing?!"

"A sin to justify murder in the service of the Lord! A sin to blaspheme the Lord! No excuse will save you from judgment—!"

"C-come to your senses, kuh?!"

Even as he struggled for breath, royce glanced to the side.

Their position was blown, and Dario was completely exposed.

Snipers are judged by their instant reflexes and decisiveness.

The enemy was a skilled sniper—and so was Royce.

A brief tussle ensued between Royce, trying desperately to pull Dario back, and Dario, holding fast.

An eerie sound. Dario snapped back to his senses.

At some point, they had switched places.

A spearhead emerged from Royce's temple, blood dripping from its tip. And then Royce's body slid to the side.

Lying down, dario stared at the fallen Royce beside him.

His eyes, pointed at the sky, were unfocused. The light in them increasingly dimmed. Now Dario noticed a faint reddish tinge to Royce's irises.

The operation was over.

There was an unexpected sacrifice.

Zima's group was using a ruined village as a temporary base.

Zima had a detached house, apart from the kids' quarters.

Zima stared blankly at the broken Dario. Dario hung his head low like a sinner.

"Royce was a good kid. In many ways."

"I won't ask you anything."

Zima stood up. At the same time, a silent tear ran down Dario's cheek.

"Stay here for now. It's best you don't go outside."

With that, Zima left.

Left alone in the solitude, dario spent days crying, writhing, raving, tossing, and repeating those agonies over and over.

It was by chance that Dario's gaze turned to Zima's desk.

There lay the Apocalypse.

Dario didn't know how much time had passed.

It was as though he'd been cut off from the world, immersed only in the Apocalypse.

"Just as I thought. Even the Lord..."

His clenched fists trembled; his nails dug into his palms.

"The damned world—he wanted to see it shattered."

The Apocalypse held the answers to every question that had ever plagued him.

He recited the words aloud, muttered to himself, chuckled quietly, then laughed aloud, repeating the cycle.

"Right, that's it. Something's been wrong all along. Yes, this is right. Heh heh."

There were too many injustices. A world suffused with hate was hopeless for redemption.

"Do you know how hard I tried? Hm? I forgave, I even prayed for them—was I wrong?"

The world always responded to his vows of commitment with cruel answers. It seemed to demand he give up from the outset.

Every time, he remembered the words of his father, the High Priest Arcangelo.

"I accepted it as a trial to be overcome."

The only ones who'd ever loved him.

Why did he have to watch them die, right before his eyes?

"It wasn't a trial—it was destiny."

Because of them, he understood.

Dario felt liberated.

He thought maybe everyone had left, and he was the only one left behind.

It was Renard who came to him.

Renard entered Zima's quarters and dropped a bundle of provisions before Dario.

"I packed enough. You can last a few days alone, but you should find someplace to settle as soon as possible."

"I actually wanted to stay with you all longer. It's a shame."

"You seem alright, really. In a way, that's good. Anyway, go now. Father said so himself."

"I see. Can I at least say goodbye to the others?"

Renard smirked in disbelief.

"The others? Dario, just keep your mouth shut and get out while you can. I'm only restraining myself because my father asked me to handle this directly, you understand?"

It was his first time outside in ages.

Dario squinted at the pouring sunlight, but there was a faint smile at his lips. Suddenly, he felt refreshed.

The children gathered here and there avoided Dario's gaze. Not one of them spoke to him. Even the kids who used to study scripture with him pretended not to notice.

Dario didn't mind. He leisurely looked them over as he crossed the middle of the area. If anything, he pitied them.

Just before the main road out of the village, dario halted and looked back.

The children, with Renard at their center, watched him in silence.

Dario grinned and called out.

"My name is Arcangelo. If we ever meet again, call me that."

He waved and turned away.

No one said farewell to him.

Dario walked on for a while, then stopped again. Zima was coming toward him from ahead.

'...' ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel[f]ire.net

Dario pressed his lips together. He tried to force a smile but couldn't quite manage it.

Why did that man, who committed all sorts of atrocities without hesitation, possess such overflowing holy light? That, at least, he could never understand.

"Leaving now, dario?"

"Uh, thank you for everything."

"No need for thanks."

Zima bared his yellow teeth in a grin. Behind him, a tall man stood with his head bowed. His face was a swollen wreck under his robe, barely recognizable.

Dario's gaze, which had lingered on the man, shifted to where Zima pointed.

"You'll run into the others. After getting beaten up by this fellow and being put to work cleaning up by me, they're all pretty hot right now. Best avoid it."

Now that he thought of it, there were several faces he hadn't seen earlier.

Eden, Corbinian, Armand, Peco.

His palms suddenly began to sweat.

"Go, dario. May you accomplish your goal."

Dario chuckled as he watched Zima walk away.

He felt he had to make this clear—at least to that man.

"My name is Arcangelo!"

"P-please, at the very least, remember it."

"Heh, what difference does a name make? Hm? Isn't that right, you scamp?"

Zima smacked the tall man on the head. The man staggered.

Then the two went off in their own directions.

The tall man docilely followed Zima, then suddenly looked back.

With eyelids swollen like tumors, his vision was blurred, but he could just make out the shrinking figure of the man walking away.

There had been a Priest in Quersa with a similar religious name.