Chapter 33

It was as if he were pleading, as if he were praying to the gods in heaven, piercing through the thick clouds. Such were the words.

“Oh, if only I had been captured with… Helt, Helt Stanley…!”

And in the direction of that prayer, I am not there.

My breath is hot. Generated in the lungs, passing through the tubes, the heat is being transported throughout my body, and I can feel it inside. A heat so intense that it is almost frightening, confined and circulating within me.

Even when I traveled with this woman and Fiarat La Borgograd, I don't think I ever exhaled such heat or harbored such a consuming hatred.

Ah, even in this era. Even now, at this moment, is it still the same for you?

I remember. I remember well, Magician. This is not a situation where we are in a tight spot. Of course, you weren't that flustered. But every time you saw me, you said it.

—Oh, it's you. If only it had been Helt.

The hot breath that had risen inside me spilled out of my mouth. It was strangely stifling inside.

Of course. Of course, it is. I am, after all, nothing more than a worthless rat. Fiarat's evaluation of me is only natural. It is truly commendable and wonderful.

The flame of the ceramic candlestick, which had only cast our shadows, now cast a large shadow on the wall. It approached with a clattering sound. Its face hidden by a helmet, meticulously armored, it held a beheading sword. Should I call it a soldier or an executioner?

“—Stand up, one of you. The Holy Maiden has given the order. Have your prayers been completed?”

It seems they have already lost patience. They probably intend to make an example of one of us to capture the two who are still running through the underground temple.

Fiarat let out a soundless gasp and shrank back. Her face was pale, and she was flustered, with no hope. She wore such an expression.

Of course, my evaluation as a rat is natural. In Fiarat's mind, that evaluation will never change. So, I will accept it.

But there is no reason to suppress this emotion, this feeling that is crawling up my spine, spilling out of my mouth and eyes.

“Absolutely perfect. You never change, Magician.”

The shadow lying on the wall wavered and stood up.

The ceramic candlestick, made of beast fat, flickered its flame vigorously as if it were moving on its own. When I stood up, I dropped the chewed tobacco in my pocket, and it only intensified the flame. I could feel the heat even from a short distance.

Fiarat looked at me with wide, moist eyes as I stood up straight. Is she surprised? I don't know.

“As you say, unfortunately, I am still a rat, now and in the future. So, I can't rescue you as elegantly as Helt Stanley.”

And with this, I showed the rope tied behind my back. The guard, surprised by my sudden standing, twisted his face in confusion but did not immediately attack.

Of course not. They have their own aesthetics. They will kill me according to their aesthetics and techniques. Besides, there are five or six guards here, including the lookout. They are confident that a thug like me can be easily restrained no matter what I do.

Ah, it's infuriating. The heat is raging in my stomach. They underestimate me. Even you. Ah, even you, if this were Helt Stanley, would you all have surrounded him with spears?

While entertaining such absurd thoughts, I pulled the rope and thrust out my elbow. The flame of the candlestick below me flickered strangely.

Indeed, just kicking it wouldn't be powerful enough. Besides, I need to catch them off guard.

“But, Magician, a rat has its own pride. Please step back and watch. And when there's an opening, run for your life.”

I slowly and deliberately pulled out something hidden in my back pocket, visible only to Fiarat.

It was an adhesive made from the mucus of a beast, which I bought in Galuamaria. It is used as glue and can be easily purchased as a daily item. Even if I had stolen knives or valuables, no one would have noticed this junk.

But it is quite useful. It is not only convenient in daily life, but it burns very well.

It's simple. Since I can no longer cut the rope with a knife, I have to burn it. I need to leave the handkerchief I received from Alieno, but it might still be in the water bottle if I'm lucky.

—Let's start with the elbow. I've done something similar before. Back then, I was the only captive.

Recalling the familiar scene from the past, I kicked off from my feet and lunged forward.

I slammed my elbow, with all my weight, into the ceramic candlestick. I aimed for the hardest part to break it.

For a moment, I saw Fiarat's lips move, as if to say something. But her words were left behind,

—Crash

The ceramic shattered with a dull sound.

*

The first thing I felt was not just the intense pain in my elbow but throughout my body. The pain was so intense that I felt my body might split in two from the tip of my elbow.

The bone of my elbow, which had broken the ceramic and was now embedded in the stone floor, was clearly abnormal. Ah, my dominant hand is safe.

At the same time, a burning pain. Ah, yes, this flame is pain. It has long since passed the stage of being merely hot.

The flame, now free, spread from my elbow to my clothes, fueled by the adhesive, and began to rage throughout the room.

The small, dry objects, as if to vent their grievances, burst into flames in an instant.

Naturally, the flames also engulfed me. The fire ran from my arm to my waist, burning my skin.

Ah, burn, burn, burn. It's not enough yet. My insides are even hotter. This level of heat can't burn me. This level of heat can't kill my passion.

The high-pitched screams of Fiarat and the panicked voices of the guards filled my ears.

Ah, it's delightful. It's truly delightful. You underestimated me. You underestimated me, didn't you?

They must have been quite flustered. The beheading sword in the hand of the executioner standing in front of me slipped and fell. Ah, and I forgot to tell you.

“The water bottle! The water bottle—!”

My ropes were already burned through.

With the flames on my back, I picked up the beheading sword with both hands. And then,

—A black streak cut through the flames, gliding along the small gap in the armor and helmet, and slashed the neck.

It was not an intentional move. I can say that with certainty. It was a smooth, almost perfect swing, as if it were the pinnacle of martial arts.

Flesh was torn, the cervical vertebrae severed, and the head of the executioner, now separated from the body, formed the shape of a demon.

The expression was one of terror. Of trembling. It must have been. The expression of someone staring at a monstrous form. The same expression was on the faces of those around who were trying to aim their spears. Their faces showed fear. Terror. Ah, then it's simple. They are all captives of me.

The black streak of the beheading sword matched the red of the flames perfectly.

“—Gah, hah!”

Die, die. There is no doubt. I will die here. That's fine. Just die.

Around me, those who had fallen to the ground, convulsing and sobbing, those who were screaming in terror, those whose bodies were starting to catch fire. All of them, all of them, should just die.

My breath was truly hot, and each breath burned my throat painfully. But it's not enough yet, not nearly enough. The heat in my body is far from enough. The heat fueled by hatred is far from enough.

—But my body has clearly reached its limit.

My left arm, the most severely damaged, has no sensation. Despite being exposed to the heat and pain of the flames, I feel nothing. I should have flames on my back, but I feel nothing.

As the sensation fades, my vision blurs. Of course, it's impossible. I can hear Fiarat's strangely clear voice from somewhere far away.

Ah, but it's rather good. Can a human move while being whipped by flames all over their body? Perhaps I had taken some kind of stimulant.

Well, it doesn't matter. In the end, I didn't compromise. I am still me. I can die with the heat. Is there anything more than that? Ah, there can't be.

Fiarat, if you can, please escape amidst this chaos. Your arms are tied, but your legs should be fine. If you can't run out of fear, then give up.

I can't go out of my way to save people. I am not Helt Stanley or a hero. I am just Louis.

And did you see, the black shadow that brought me to this era. I, Louis, am ending here. This wretched existence to save one woman. It's a mess. No play has a hero like this.

But, isn't it a good performance for a rat?

—Ah, it's more than good.

Hearing such a voice in one ear, my body, which could hardly breathe, naturally collapsed on the spot.