Chapter 106 The Bloody Tragedy Behind The Eyelid
When did our paths cross? Even now, in this later age, I can't tell.
Five hundred years. Has it been buried deep under the weight of time?
It's too far, too deep, too hidden to dig up.
Now, the truth is like an ocean of sand.
But history points the way.
The paths that were supposed to intersect twisted and turned, and then.
They parted, standing face to face.
One bathed in glory, the other steeped in sin.
One on the throne, the other in rebellion.
'Why is this?'
Fifteen hundred years of human history.
The legendary hero-king Sigmund ended an age of strife.
Beside the king, who raised his sword and walked the royal path, were a 4-winged black crow and 4 heroic knights.
The wise crow, Gymnif.
The hunter of the emerald storm.
The warrior of bronze.
The wanderer of icy blue.
The maiden of crimson flames.
'Why is this, Yulirn! Answer me!'
But the knight of crimson flames—
the maiden who had stood by the royal path the longest—
turned against the throne after the reign.
She invaded Asgardam, driving the four great spirits mad and leading them into chaos.
With her spear, she rose against the king.
'To prevent that twilight from coming!'
The maiden of crimson flames fell to the betraying witch.
* * *
"[Twilight...?]."
Quollio wondered.
One of the greatest mysteries in the Sigmund epic, Yulirn's betrayal. Why did the closest aide, said to have fought alongside the king in the most battles, betray him? Even now, scholars in archaeology are passionately debating this topic.
Perhaps it's the price of betrayal. There are few writings about her. Her birthplace is unknown. The reasons and timing for her accompanying Sigmund are also unclear.
About her, some poets sing of a maiden pure enough to communicate with spirits, while others despise her as a calculating femme fatale.
Even the evaluations of her character differ so much. Therefore, there are many hypotheses about why Yulirn betrayed.
However, particularly in theater, Yulirn is often portrayed as an evil witch. This is understandable. She is the greatest traitor in history. If portrayed positively, she might attract the ire of the current emperor (Garland).
But.
(What does it mean to prevent the twilight...?)
Quollio ponders the lines from the play again, tilting his head once more.
Twilight. In other words, sunset. Maybe it's a metaphor to prevent the sunset of Asgardam. But that doesn't match the actions. The witch's deeds themselves are a rebellion pushing towards that sunset.
(Twilight. Could it be... the [Twilight of the Gods (Ragnarok)] from the Yumillion myth? No. No way. If that's the case, then the interpretation of Yulirn becomes mysterious... Hmm, no.)
Leaning against the theater wall, seeker Quollio sinks deep into a sea of thoughts.
But sadly, no matter how much he tries to think, he can't come up with a solid hypothesis. Time doesn't stop for him.
Leaving the abandoned sage behind, the play moves on.
The story reaches its climax.
Witch Yulirn is defeated by Sigmund, and the captured witch is sentenced to be burned at the stake on stage.
The time of judgment was approaching.
* * *
Judgment is the foolish end that the masses desire.
For every sin, there's a punishment. For every evil, there's a reckoning. For every enemy, there's death.
Karma is here. That is the final chapter of the Sigmund Saga. The end of witch Yulirn.
So, this is a reenactment.
Yulirn (Rose) is nailed to the stage set, and in front of the audience, Sigmund (Marcus) himself sets the fire.
The end from 500 years ago.
"Burn her."
Someone in the audience whispered. It was a soft murmur, barely audible like a small flame.
"Yes, burn her."
"Burn her! Burn her!"
"Judgment!"
"Punish the witch!"
But it didn't remain a small flame. The whispers spread, rising into a wave of frenzy. crowd erupted, shouting in unison:
*Death. Punishment. Retribution.*
With bloodshot eyes,
spitting fury,
and fists raised high,
the townspeople of Joosa screamed as if possessed by madness.
(...Hey. What the heck is going on here?)
The theater troupe members were shocked.
Of course, it makes sense. They've never experienced such an abnormal chant before. Even the members of Reginleif's squad are flustered by the audience's sudden change. It's impossible not to feel shaken.
Still, Marcus Millio, who didn't show a hint of disturbance, deserves praise for being the face of the theater troupe.
But.
"Yes. This is how the story ends.
The betraying witch is judged by Sigmund.
Asgardam will find long-lasting peace."
Without showing any signs of distress, the witch (Rose) looked down with frozen eyes.
"By justice, evil is vanquished...
And that's the end. Happy ending, right?"
The witch sang lines that weren't in the script.
As glamorous as an opera.
As cold as a death sentence.
"Ahaha, how foolish. No one knows the truth.
Just a convenient bad name created by someone.
Throwing stones is such a light sin."
Rose Carmine knew.
The sins that the old men controlling the town had been hiding.
The townspeople, unknowingly dancing to the tune of their past sins.
"You all should be the ones... judged, monsters."
And so the witch declared.
If they didn't want their masks ripped off, then she would just
give them a fitting form.
"Turn around. 'God's poison'."
What she chanted was a curse.
The sound that rang out was the silver bell she had hidden.
The farce ends here. From now on,
it's the red witch's revenge drama.
* * *
"Ugh."
Just like the beginning of the frenzy was a small spark,
the hell summoned by the witch also started with a small scream.
"W-what the hell is this? My arm, my arm!"
With a dull thud, it fell—a severed part of his body.
Like a rotten tree, his arm dropped at his feet.
He couldn't understand. It made no sense.
No matter how he thought about it, this was absurd.
──Hey. Come on. Please pick up my arm.
As he faced the sudden chaos, the man tried to rely on his wife sitting next to him.
"Ahh... w-what? A beast?! Why?! No, no, NOOOOOOO!!!"
What came back from his wife was a scream.
The moment she looked at him, her face twisted in pure terror as she cried out, "Beast!"
Beast?! A beast appeared in the theater?!
That's what he thought he was about to say. But...
"Majubpmjmwyuu, gjzega──a, a, e?, ah,,,,,]
A voice that didn't seem human echoed, where was it even coming from?
Before he could understand, his body began to collapse.
The man had become a beast.
Hell began with one person's strange transformation.
Like the frenzy that came before, the change spread rapidly, tracing its path through the crowd.
"Ah, ah, my body...
No, no, NOOwdbmdaaaay!?!?!?!?]
From one to two.
"What, what the heck is this?!
What on earth is happening teewjpgzmgdgymg!?!?!?!]
From two to four.
"Stop it, you beast! Don't come near me!!!"
"Help! Someone help──"
"It's the witch's curse... We are cursed!"
"Noooooo!!!!"
Screams echoed, and fresh blood splattered like a macabre dance.
Flesh was shredded by the beast's claws, and the corpses twisted, morphing into grotesque monsters.
The sharp sound of glass shattering.
The sickening crack of something breaking.
The wet, grisly noise of flesh being devoured.
All around, chaos and despair sprawled, consuming everything in their path.
"Ah, ha."
From the broken lamp, flames spread.
The carpet was devoured by a fire dragon.
The hellish flames delivered judgment upon the sinners.
"No way. There's no escape. There was never a way out. Punishment for sin, right?
How can you all, who went mad believing that, think you can escape now?"
On the stage. In the midst of the mad revelry.
The witch sang, investigating despair.
"Ah──to you who wear the mask of justice.
To all of you who have gone mad in the right way.
This is a request from the witch's daughter from some time ago."
It was glamorous, like an opera.
Cold, like a death sentence.
For the vengeful witch, death was never an option to consider.
And so, she offered the 'God's poison (wine).'
"Writhing in the crimson flames of despair.
Please, please. May you all perish."
The old men of the Inquisitorial Council, who sought sacrifices for their own desires and caused tragedy.
The townspeople who judged the mother, who was just an ordinary woman, as a witch that day.
"And even the vulgar knight captain who, from the very first day, ogled Rose and selfishly hoarded the wine meant to honor the knights."
All of them. Every last one of them.
They should burn. Burn until there's nothing left but ash.
"Ah, ha. Ahahaha!
Ahhahahaha! Hahaha, hahahaha!!!"
For every sin, there's a punishment.
For every evil, there's a reckoning.
For every enemy, there's death.
Karma is here.
* * *
This is the revenge play of the crimson witch.
"Hey! Hey, Rose! You just went off-script, and what are you doing standing there like a statue?!"
The path of the story that should have been followed.
"How... is this happening...?"
But──don't forget.
Because of the monsters that slipped in from another world.
This story has already begun to be killed.
"Why is nothing happening...?"
The bell signaling the start of revenge has rung.
Even the gods's poison has been downed by everyone except the knight order members.
But the script that was killed won't come back to life.
The lid of hell won't open.
The revenge play won't begin.
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