Chapter 747: Dave (Part 4)
The moment they held hands, his younger brother spoke.
"There you are, there you are."
A voice so frail it seemed as though it might falter at any second. All Unyielding Knee could do was to respond by gripping his hand tightly in place of an answer, his knees refusing to bend.
"Heh... thank goodness, really... I thought... I thought you’d be too busy to come."
Unyielding Knee remained silent.
He had sworn an Oath of Silence, but even before that, he simply had nothing to say.
Just as his brother said, he had never truly been there for him. He’d been busy with the grand cause of restoring the rights of the Red-Skinned people... Or perhaps, it had merely been an excuse to distance himself from his younger brother.
He despised himself for it.
"Do you... remember, Brother? Our old home... when we were kids?"
The scrap yard on the outskirts of First Step.
That was where Unyielding Knee and his brother had lived.
Poverty, discrimination, crime, disease, and alcoholism—that was all they had known.
Their father had been one of those alcoholics.
"I used to play with you a lot back then, didn’t I? It... it was fun, right?"
No, it hadn’t been fun at all.
That place had been dreary, with nothing but their father’s drunken violence to fill the emptiness.
The only reason he’d played with his brother was because there was nothing else to do. If he hadn’t, he might have truly lost his mind.
And when their father died, and the chieftain took them in, offering him a chance to do something else, he’d immediately stopped paying attention to his younger brother.
Learning dark magic and fighting for the independence of the Red-Skinned people was far more meaningful.
In his mind, it was much more worthwhile than playing with his slow, helpless brother.
He despised himself for it.
"It's strange, Brother, but I remember it all so clearly... those old memories. I remember the chieftain, the strong Lily, the Ten Fingers man, and Smiling Mouth."
His younger brother recalled their memories together.
Memories of the chieftain who had taken them in, of Lily, the chieftain’s daughter and fierce leader of their tribe, of the skilled craftsman Ten Fingers, and of Smiling Mouth, who had played the role of their eldest brother alongside Unyielding Knee.
But all of that meant nothing now.
Every one of them had died—either in the struggle for independence or during the demon summoning—and were no longer part of this world.
Only he and his younger brother remained alive in the entire tribe. Only the two of them.
He despised himself for it.
"Hehehe... it’s funny, right? I was... I was the fool, wasn’t I? Couldn’t even remember things that happened a while ago..."
His brother suddenly chuckled.
He wasn’t wrong. Unyielding Knee’s younger brother had been a fool.
Not a true idiot, but someone with poor memory, lacking ability, and entirely untalented in dark magic.
He’d only been allowed to remain in the tribe because he had an older brother who was well-respected.
For that reason, the tribe had always found him a bit burdensome, and his older brother felt the same. Even when he’d come out of worry, Unyielding Knee would push him away without a word.
‘Brother! Are you all righ—’
Right before the demon summoning, his brother had approached him out of concern, but Unyielding Knee had dismissed him with barely a glance.
Recalling that memory now, Unyielding Knee felt a surge of hatred toward the world.
If only he’d replied when he’d still had the freedom to speak. Now, he couldn’t even say a word. Why had that felt so difficult back then?
"······."
All he could do now was hold his brother’s hand tightly.
He couldn’t even say the simple words, "It’s okay," or "I love you." He despised himself.
"I wish... I’d been like this from the start. Maybe I... could have been more help to others... and to you, Brother."
Hate. Hate. Hate. Unyielding Knee hated everything about this.
He hated the fact that he’d been deceived into summoning the demon by an Eternal Child, hated the tribe’s downfall, hated that their fight for freedom had been interrupted, hated that he was now speechless. He hated everything.
He was so full of hate that he no longer knew exactly what he hated.
He just wanted everything to burn and be gone. All of it, including himself.
Had that sentiment passed through his grip? His brother’s voice emerged, more serious than he’d ever heard it in life.
"Brother... I... it’s okay now. I’ve done everything I wanted. I got to talk to you. Hehe... So go ahead, Brother. I’m not angry."
"······."
"It’s something that has to be done, right? You need revenge, don’t you? We need to leave proof that we were here, that we lived, don’t we?"
"······."
"So, go ahead. Really... you can."
His timid, fearful younger brother made a statement with complete certainty for the first time.
The rage and resentment storming through Unyielding Knee finally snapped, and he let go of his brother’s hand, reaching toward his brother’s throat.
He despised himself.
A crushing sound...
The bed beneath his brother sank under the pressure, and only choking, gasping sounds echoed.
He despised himself.
With each gasp, Unyielding Knee tightened his grip. Through his voiceless mouth, he conveyed something.
He despised himself.
For a very, very long time.
He despised himself...
...
A massive dragon, veiled in crimson flames, soared through the darkened sky, pouring streams of fire without rest.
The ominous flames from the dragon ironically illuminated the blackened heavens, pushing back the darkness.
Each time the darkness swallowed the fire, the dragon would unleash even more flames, continuing to burn away the shadows.
A fierce roar...
“This... this can’t be…”
One of the paladins watching murmured in confusion.
It was understandable. The dragon had once been a symbol of disaster, and rightly so.
A living catastrophe that claimed countless lives and was ultimately eradicated through the efforts of the Archive.
Though long extinct, it was still seen as a symbol of chaos, calamity, and evil.
Yet here was this dragon, fighting to drive away the darkness that had cast the city into madness, bringing light to its deranged streets.
The paladins, who had been raised under the teachings of the Holy See their entire lives, could only feel bewildered.
“Whatever it is... it’s not bad.”
That confusion wasn’t necessarily negative.
Confusion itself merely implied disorder, and it could be seen as both positive or negative depending on the view.
Some paladins chose to see it positively.
After all, right after Prince Albert’s radio broadcast, the dragon’s appearance had begun to dispel the madness sweeping the city...
People who’d been killing orphans and prostitutes indiscriminately in the name of judgment, even going as far as storming the paladins’ headquarters, had now been halted.
A dragon or not, if it could banish such madness, that could only be a good thing.
“Yes, that’s right! It’s not bad.”
“I checked the streets, and the orphan hunts have stopped. People are evacuating.”
“Evacuating? To where?!”
As the paladins assessed the situation with a bit of relief, trying to grasp the developments, there was a general sense that things were improving—at least slightly.
Except for one person.
That person was none other than Joanna, who had come to support the paladins after the loss of holy magic but was now stranded at the headquarters.
“······.”
Unlike the other paladins, Joanna grew even paler upon seeing the fire dragon burning through the darkness.
More than when the frenzied citizens had been hunting down women and children.
It was no wonder. She knew precisely who controlled that dragon. Its presence here meant that he had come to the capital, and the very thing she feared most was now looming near.
“Are you ready to face the truth?”
Joanna recalled a conversation she’d once had with the Burnt One.
When Oliver had collapsed from exhaustion after saving First Step, and conversed with the demon...
Hearing the demon’s voice echo in her mind, Joanna staggered.
The paladins, noticing her distress, quickly supported her.
“Are you all right, Dame Joanna?”
They addressed her as "Dame Joanna," per her request. She had asked them to refrain from calling her "Savior," "Saint," or "Daughter of the Angel."
But now, such titles were the least of their concerns.
What mattered now was not how they addressed her, but rather the situation at hand—and Oliver’s arrival in the capital.
It was, overall, a disastrous turn of events.
While she’d foreseen it, it was unfolding far sooner than expected, and the one person who should never have come was now here.
Her mind returned to her conversation with the Burnt One, that harsh truth.
The memory brought on another headache, but the fear weighing on Joanna was even heavier than the pain.
“Dame Joanna…?”
Hearing the worried voice, Joanna responded.
“What’s the situation outside?”
“The city has regained some order. The senseless killings have stopped, and everyone is evacuating under guidance.”
“Guidance?”
Joanna asked again, curious about the source of such order in this chaos.
“It’s hard to believe, but the Kel Liberation Army is using fire-based teleportation magic to evacuate the citizens.”
The paladin replied, his disbelief apparent even in his own words.
Given the history of Northland and the United Kingdom, and what people knew about the Kel Liberation Army, it was understandable.
It was hard to believe even after seeing it firsthand.
Nonetheless, it was indeed happening, and thankfully Joanna accepted it without further question.
“Good... That’s good.”
“Yes…”
The paladin replied, a bit embarrassed by his own voice.
The paladins should have been the ones handling the crisis, but they hadn’t done anything. In fact, they were even preparing for angry citizens to storm their base.
Even more humiliating, they had prevented Joanna from going out to help, fearing she might lose what little hope remained.
Her entire retinue, along with the capital branch paladins, had opposed her leaving as if their lives depended on it.
But they did not regret that choice.
The conspiracy involving the puppet-possessing royals had gone unnoticed, and their failure to respond to it was indeed a disgrace, but Joanna’s safety—the Daughter of the Angel—was more important.
If anything were to happen to her, it would mean the end of Pater’s Church.
With that in mind, the paladin considered proposing that she escape the capital, using the fire-based teleportation magic the Kel Liberation Army was currently employing.
The paladins hoped that the Daughter of the Angel would prioritize her safety over engaging in this calamity.
But before he could even make his suggestion, Joanna spoke first.
"Let’s head to the royal palace."
“What?!”
“Now is the perfect time. The citizens have cleared the streets in their panic, and people are evacuating. That means fewer innocents will be caught in the crossfire. If we’re going to act, this is our chance.”
“You’re absolutely right, but…”
The paladin stationed at the United Kingdom’s branch strongly opposed.
Now that holy magic had vanished, Joanna was the sole proof that Pater’s Church hadn’t been abandoned by the divine.
If anything happened to her, the long-standing faith that had upheld order in human history might truly vanish forever.
That would mean the efforts of the paladin and countless others before him would be rendered meaningless.
It was a terrifying prospect, an emptiness that made his flesh crawl with dread.
The paladin wanted to oppose her with every fiber of his being. But it wasn’t easy.
Joanna’s gaze was resolute, as though she now had a reason that made this mission non-negotiable.
“Gah! Ugh—!”
As Joanna and the paladin locked gazes, interpreting each other’s intentions, another paladin staggered and retched, spitting up blood.
Seeing him cough up blood so shockingly, the others rushed to his side, and one of the nearby paladins quickly assured them.
“Don’t worry. He’s not actually spitting blood.”
“Then?”
“Ugh… It’s water. It… it’s turned into blood. That’s what he’s vomiting up.”
“Water… turned to blood?”
The story sounded familiar from somewhere.
Just as he was about to recall its source, frogs began to pour out of the blood-drenched water bottles.
They emerged not only from water bottles but from teacups, bathtubs, ponds, and even fountains, flooding the ground with a swarm of frogs.
With that bizarre sight behind her, Joanna spoke.
“Even now, do you still think it’s not time for me to step in?”
The paladin found himself unable to answer.