Chapter 77

Bosses usually have a second or third form, don't they?

The being that was Cain was defeated, and the commotion is finally starting to settle down.

Most likely, that lump of charcoal is the result of Cain's transformation.

I don't know how he managed to infiltrate this place or why. He was supposed to be under surveillance because of his dangerous infatuation with Renaria.

How did he slip past the watchful eyes of the mages and soldiers?

Kishutaria and Micaelis are giving orders briskly, trying to bring the situation under control. His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen can finally evacuate through the broken wall, with Duke Fortuna leading the way and barking orders to those around him.

Father must have noticed my anxiety, as he has stayed by my side the whole time.

I'm so happy that Father is here. Just knowing he's by my side makes me smile, and Father gives a slightly troubled smile and pats my head, which makes my expression even softer.

No, that's not right. I'm trying to be a lady, but my face is so relaxed.

I press my cheeks with my hands, trying to compose myself. But when I see Father, my face relaxes again.

Ugh... I'm such a hopeless lady... The consequences of being a hikikomori and neglecting social life.

Normally, a lady is supposed to maintain a smile and navigate social situations with words and wit, without revealing her true feelings.

Clifft, the bearded man, occasionally glances at me with a look that seems to say something, moving his upper body in a creepy way. He's like a toy that moves in response to sound.

Father glances at the bearded man, who is supposed to be my step-brother, and wraps me in his cloak to hide me.

Uncle Clifft makes an incredible face. What's so great? It's like a middle-aged man's face is falling apart.

Father tells me not to look, so I nod and turn my head in another direction.

What I see is the black lump of charcoal, the remains of a human.

What was Cain thinking when he became that? Even in that monstrous form, he was filled with murderous intent towards me. I could hear his muffled voice calling for Renaria, so she must have been pulling the strings.

The self-proclaimed heroine harbors an unusual amount of hatred towards me.

When I was attacked before, I was called a fake Alber and a villainous lady.

While the original might be, the real Albertina is a hikikomori, not a flower of evil. In reality, I'm treated like a spoiled little girl. I have many overprotective guardians, so I have to be careful not to babble and act too mature.

The soldiers are poking the lump of charcoal with fear. It crumbles easily, indicating how fragile it is.

Some mages are inspecting it with the knights.

It seems they will carry it away for now.

Of course, it can't be left in the audience chamber indefinitely.

I was letting my guard down.

The attacker turned into charcoal, the surroundings are coming back to life, and Father is by my side.

Suddenly, a dull thud is heard.

A heavy, dull sound. When I turn around, I see something that looks like the head of a blind catfish or snake rolling on the ground.

Following the light tapping sound, I see something red at Father's feet, forming a small pool of crimson.

A sense of dread, fear, and an irresistible force leads me to see something else.

A head, the same as the one that fell, is biting Father's arm.

"Fa... Father... Father!!!"

"Don't come, Albert."

When I try to run to him, he glares at me with a sharpness I've never seen before.

I've never been looked at like that by Father, and my legs freeze.

"This is an order. Step back."

The monster's head is gnawing on Father's arm, making a sickening sound. Even though its neck has been severed, it seems to have a fanatical obsession.

Father's hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. His brows are furrowed, and he looks in pain.

Father, who is usually so composed, is in pain. He is injured right in front of me.

My mind goes blank as I realize Father is pushing me away with unusually harsh words.

It feels like something important inside me is collapsing, or being shattered into pieces. I exhale meaningless air.

Suddenly, I'm pulled back by the shoulder.

"Albert, stay back! Father!"

Kishutaria rushes over, her face pale with anxiety.

"I'm going to seal this. It's hopeless otherwise."

"Seal it before the arm—"

"It's too late to cut it off now. I'm incorporating a spell to forcibly condense my magic and its magic."

"—What?"

"It changes abilities based on the body it possesses. Can you deal with it after it consumes my power?

I'll seal the curse's spread and weaken it as much as possible."

Kishutaria stands there, stunned, as Father gives instructions with a look of displeasure, as if he's just doing a job.

It seems so casual, but what about Father?

Won't Father die?

"Father? Please stop. I beg you. Father, no. What are you saying...?"

My voice trembles as I try to cling to Father, but my legs won't move. I collapse and can only look at Father helplessly.

Father's arm is unnaturally swollen, moving strangely under his clothes.

Kishutaria touches the writhing arm with her magic-infused hand, but it repels her with a spark.

"It's useless. If I can't do anything, how can you? You'll just become a monster too, and that would be a problem."

"Father is always so strict. I don't like it. Albert is already sad enough."

"This can only be dealt with by light magic or holy magic. Anything else is just a trick."

"But—!"

"Enough. Don't get distracted by something that can't be changed."

A black vein appears on Father's neck, slowly moving towards his face.

Father scolds Kishutaria, who bites her lip and glares at him with a look of concern and helplessness.

"...I understand. If that's your decision, I'll follow it."

After a moment, Kishutaria lowers her head, her voice low and trembling. She steps back a few paces.

Father quietly acknowledges this and looks at me after a moment.

His gaze is soft, his usual aqua-blue eyes looking at me.

"Albert."

"Father, please. Father... I'll be good. I'll do anything you say.

Please. Father... don't take Father away from me. Don't take him... please."

Don't die. Don't leave. Don't give up.

What should I say?

"I'm sorry, Albert... please."

I shake my head like a child throwing a tantrum, and Father gives a troubled smile.

A gentle smile, just for me.

But Father's arm is moving unnaturally. The thing that was biting it falls off, turning into a puddle of mud on the floor.

Father is smiling. As usual. But in his hand is a transparent sword.

"Be happy. Albertina... my beloved daughter. Be happy— that's my only wish."

With those words, Father severs his own head.

I understand that the skill to cut off a head so silently is a mark of a first-rate user.

Father's head rolls carelessly, and his headless body tilts. But the corpse, which should be spraying blood, tells a different story. Cutting off a neck with so many veins should result in a gush of blood.

No blood comes out. Instead, a black, murky liquid oozes out, quickly enveloping Father's body with an indescribable sound.

It's terrifying, but I can't look away.

After a moment, a four-legged creature without a head appears. It looks like tanned leather or soft enamel, and it's questionable whether it can even be called a living thing.

It killed Father, the end result of the cursed creature. Nearby, something mummy-like is lying—probably Cain Duroit, drained of everything, or perhaps another victim.

It slams its arm, or front leg, into the floor, shattering the marble and scattering debris.

The impact makes Father's head, which was lying carelessly, move. I rush over and cradle it, the only part of Father not consumed by the curse.

"Father, Father...!"

Father, now much smaller, is cradled in my arms as I sit on the floor.

A large shadow falls over me.

Looking up dazedly, I see the cursed creature that took Father.

"Ah..."

Unconsciously, I hug the head in my arms.

Strangely, I'm not afraid. I can't accept the fact that I've lost Father.

At that moment, a massive icicle engulfs the black creature. More ice shards follow, freezing the creature.

"Albert! What are you doing?!"

"...Kishutaria?"

Kishutaria, pale with fear, picks me up easily.

She freezes the ground and rides the ice to put distance between us and the creature. The icicles continue to grow.

But the creature breaks through the ice, its surface frozen and oozing a liquid-like substance, thrashing in pain.

It thrashes so much that part of the floor collapses, and it rolls ungracefully. It doesn't seem very intelligent.

"Still quite fragile... We can take it down with the remaining forces...!"

"Take it down...? What about Father? What will happen to Father?"

"Albert, this is Father's will... I'm sorry."

Uncle Clifft is suddenly beside me, his left hand bleeding from the battle. Jibril rushes over, trying to make me drink a potion.

He hands me over to Jibril, who gently strokes my cheek, then turns to face the creature.

The creature is struggling against Duke Fortuna's battle-axe and Micaelis' flame-infused mithril sword.

It's much slower than before, thrashing and oozing something, but it shows signs of multiple attacks.

I can feel the creature's movements through the floor, but its once-unpredictable and eerie movements are now sluggish and lacking vitality.

That's Father.

Father's body.

Even though I've seen it transform before my eyes, I refuse to accept it.

In my hands, the smaller, cold Father has slightly open lids, revealing his usual aqua-blue eyes, but they are empty and lifeless.

Every time a powerful weapon is swung, the creature thrashes, and a strong spell is cast, the audience chamber shakes.

Father will be killed. As a creature, he will be disposed of.

"Stop, stop. Father..."

"Miss...!"

"Albertina, that's not Grail anymore. It's a monster that took over his body and is feeding on the remnants of his magic."

Uncle Clifft falls silent. But his hand firmly holds me back from running to Father.

"No regeneration, no curse spread— it's completely sealed. Impressive that he can handle such magic outside his field."

Uncle Clifft's words are a reluctant compliment, and he lowers his head. "No one else could have done it."

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Thank you for reading.