Chapter 99: 82 - Mutilation
Oh yes, Kairi could still read my mind, couldn’t she?
The thought, fleeting yet insistent, flickered through my consciousness like a distant warning light.
What, I wondered, would her reaction be when she finally heard all of this? Would she simply burst into her characteristic peals of laughter, that high, unrestrained sound that always seemed to bubble up from nowhere? Or would she—as was equally likely—launch into a rambling, incoherent commentary, a rapid-fire torrent of observations that made little sense to anyone but her?
The answer, I knew with an almost sickening certainty, was both.
Kairi would do both.
With an effortless grace that often bordered on maddening.
Far too easily, in fact.
As soon as the last fold of my undergarment settled into place, I took a deliberate step, moving to where Azalea stood frozen. "Azalea. You can turn around now, if you wish."
She slowly pivoted, her movements hesitant, her delicate features etched with a profound uncertainty. Her eyes, usually so bright with naive enthusiasm, were now shadowed with doubt. I met her gaze, extending an open palm in a silent invitation.
"Come on, let’s go back together."
"B-b-but, aren’t you... aren’t you an Arcanist Mage?"
Her voice was a fragile whisper, barely audible above the soft rustle of our clothing. Her steps faltered, retreating an inch, then another. Her eyes narrowed, tiny creases forming at the corners, reflecting a deep, unsettling waver in her conviction.
"Why... why would someone like you be friends with me? A mere ordinary witch?"
Hm.
It seemed my point hadn’t quite landed yet.
Despite everything, she still hadn’t fully grasped the essence of my words, had she?
To be brutally honest, the thought of forming a close bond with one of Kairi’s friends—especially someone so outwardly unremarkable in the grand scheme of our world—had never even crossed my mind.
And to be equally honest: I was utterly, profoundly sick of all the embellished titles, the suffocating expectations, the endless, meaningless decorum.
Arcanist Mages were not allowed to befriend ordinary witches, you know! They had to behave with the regal demeanor of ’Your Highness,’! They were compelled to attend tedious war strategy meetings—!
Ugh. Such mere thoughts made my shoulders slump!
I was tired. So incredibly bored. And irrevocably annoyed.
My gaze softened as I looked at Azalea, a warmth spreading through me that felt foreign yet welcome. A slow, gentle smile blossomed on my lips—a smile so genuinely warm, so utterly sincere, that I had never even shown it to Helena. Not once.
It was a smile that spoke of true kindness. Of profound sincerity. Of a tenderness I rarely allowed myself to feel, let alone express.
A smile powerful enough, I hoped, to melt any heart that harbored even the slightest doubt about my true intentions.
I could barely believe the expression I was forming.
Even for Helena, for all our shared history and duty, every smile I’d ever offered had been nothing more than a carefully constructed facade.
"Azalea kouhai-kun..." My voice was soft, an almost-whisper, imbued with a quiet solemnity.
"Keep this in your mind very well, okay?"
I paused, letting the weight of my words hang in the air.
"Kairi’s friends... they are my friends too. No matter who you are, no matter your background or your power level, if you mean something to Kairi, then by extension, you also mean something incredibly significant to me."
"In fact," I continued, taking a small step closer,
"I should be the one thanking you. Truly. Because without you, without your unwavering trust in her, without the hope you continued to place in her... perhaps I wouldn’t even be here now. Perhaps I would have simply ceased to exist."
My words, carefully chosen, floated in the quiet space between us.
And hopefully—just hopefully—they were enough to pierce through her lingering uncertainty, enough to truly touch her heart.
I didn’t care about status.
Not the cold, gleaming throne. Not the arbitrary, suffocating rules imposed by a world I increasingly despised. As long as I drew breath in this world, as long as I possessed even a flicker of agency, I would assert my fundamental right to choose my own friends.
To forge my own connections.
And then—the tears came. They streamed down her cheeks, warm and unbidden, tracing shimmering paths through the dust of battle that still clung to her.
She stared at me, her wide eyes reflecting a profound awe, as if she were witnessing an impossible miracle unfold before her very gaze.
It was almost... funny, wasn’t it?
For so long, I had believed I was an immutable constant, destined to remain the same cold, pragmatic being forever.
But now... now I was changing.
A quiet, undeniable transformation was underway within me due to Kairi.
Nope.
This change wasn’t solely because of Kairi. Kairi, for all her eccentric charm, wasn’t some mystical force of magic.
What was truly changing me... was my own fierce, stubborn choice to change. My decision to break free from the mold.
Unfortunately, in the chaos of our escape, I hadn’t thought to bring any tissues. Well, not that it ever existed in this world.
So, the only comfort I had to offer... was my own hand.
I reached out, my palm gently cupping her wet cheek, delicately wiping away her tears. She flinched, a small gasp escaping her as my skin met hers—but then, her own trembling hand rose, not to push me away, but to grasp mine, holding on with a surprising strength.
"Big Sis Selene..." Azalea’s voice was a ragged whisper, broken by emotion.
"Thank you... thank you for making me feel useful!"
"You’re welcome, Azalea." I nodded, my agreement genuine, heartfelt.
"And thank you too. Your unwavering encouragement to Kairi... it meant more than you could possibly know. It truly meant everything."
In the ancient Nordic tongue, the word hvatning—הוותניק: encouragement—held a deeper, more evocative meaning: a small pebble that rolls a great stone. And Azalea, in her unassuming way, was precisely that pebble—the catalyst that had caused something monumental to finally begin to move.
"Is that... is that okay? I feel like I don’t deserve such high praise. Praise as towering as the Olam itself."
Oh, right. Olam.
I had almost forgotten—that was what this world was called.
A vast, sprawling universe, uncannily similar in form to Kairi’s familiar Earth, yet infinitely more brutal, more ancient, and far, far more alien.
And if Kairi ever discovered this fact... she would undoubtedly be shocked half to death.
"No," I stated, my gaze unwavering. "You are more than worthy."
"Now, come. Let’s depart."
My hand reached out once more, an outstretched beacon of reassurance.
Azalea looked at me, a soft smile blooming on her tear-streaked face... and then—
SYUUT.
My mouth fell open, a silent gasp.
My eyes widened, horror seizing my vision.
A crimson stain blossomed on Azalea’s waist, spreading rapidly.
She crumpled. Her body fell with a soft, sickening thud that sliced through the air, tearing at my composure.
From where had that attack come—?!
My eyes darted, scanning the immediate surroundings, a frantic search for the source.
And then, I found him.
"You fiend, filthy monster."
"Indeed. What did you think I was, little girl?"
Arthur. Again.
He slowly began to rise, his movements stiff, labored.
His knees trembled visibly, barely supporting his weight. His right leg still hung at an awkward angle, only half-functional, a testament to Azalea’s prowess.
"I thought... I thought you were already missing a leg,"
I stated flatly, my voice a strained monotone.
My smile was a bitter, twisted thing, a mockery of the warmth I’d just shown.
"Alchemistry! Iron, Carbon, Chromium!"
"... Scalpel."
It materialized in the air—a delicate, elegant thing. Its form... impossibly thin.
Sharply curved. Keenly, lethally honed.
Kairi’s scalpel, imbued now with a sinister, gleaming purpose.
"S-s-scalpel?! What is that thing!?"
Arthur’s eyes bulged, a genuine jolt of terror causing him to recoil.
The minuscule instrument hovered in the air, pulsating with an aura of raw, untamed magic. It wasn’t large. Not imposing in its physical size. But it was more than sharp enough to sever a tendon... or an entire leg.
SYUUT! TASSS!
His hastily conjured barrier shimmered, then scraped, a faint groan of protest escaping it as the scalpel grazed its surface.
"YOU’RE MAD INSANE! I JUST GOT ON MY FEET, YOU B*TCH!"
He shrieked, his voice laced with a desperate panic.
Perhaps now... it wasn’t just me who was the monster in this equation.
Perhaps I was also a demon. Or a monster utterly consumed by a demonic rage?
No idea. Either way, both were entirely possible.
The scalpel began to spin, tracing swift, deadly arcs around Arthur’s body, forming a mesmerizing, magical maelstrom. Arthur, a complete idiot, reflexively tracked its movements with his eyes, his gaze glued to the hypnotic dance.
Idiot.
I didn’t need much time. Not with such an obvious target.
My index finger tensed, stiffening. It pointed directly, unerringly, at his knee.
"Enough playing, Arthur. This ends here."
The scalpel stopped its dance. It hung suspended in the air, poised just inches from his bewildered face. He snapped his gaze back to me—and then—
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING—AAARRRGHHHH!!!"
Serves him right. A fitting end for a fool.
Blood erupted from both of his legs, geysering into the air.
They were cleanly severed. Instantly.
A precise, brutal cut.
I stood over him, my demeanor calm, my expression unreadable. "Relax. They’ll grow back eventually. A monster like you can regenerate, can’t you?"
"ARGHHH, SCREW YOU TO HELL!!"
He howled, his voice a ragged scream of pure agony. But I knew, with an absolute certainty, that he wouldn’t die.
Not truly. Not in Olam.
Here, death was merely a temporary inconvenience—as long as the soul remained intact.
Oh, no. I almost forgot someone.
Azalea!
My calm shattered. I immediately dropped to my knees beside her, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"B-b-big Sis Selene... this, for you..."
Her hand, trembling violently, reached out, offering a necklace—
Wait, is this...?
The Veylith family’s ancient amulet?
Kairi’s most cherished heirloom.
This necklace... it wasn’t for me.
I didn’t possess the power of healing. Not like this.
But why would she...?
Suddenly, Azalea coughed. A gush of dark, viscous blood erupted from her mouth, spilling onto my arm.
Kairi...
You knew, didn’t you?
You knew all of this would happen.
That’s why you entrusted this necklace to her.
So she could save herself. So I could save her.
Kairi... you truly haven’t changed, have you?
Silently, meticulously, you had prepared for everything.
"Azalea... calm down. You will be safe. I promise you that."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. Then, her body went limp. She collapsed, a feather-light weight, into my arms, her consciousness fading.
I snatched the necklace, its cool metal already warm from her touch, and aimed it directly at the horrific, gaping wound on her waist.
Magic flared.
But this was no ordinary magic.
This was forbidden magic. Sacred magic. The stuff of ancient whispers and chilling rumors—the Veylith family, it was said, held the profound secret of immortality itself.
But it wasn’t because they were arrogant, hoarding their power out of pride.
Nor was it because they were unwilling to share, clinging selfishly to their unique gift.
Nope. Neither of those.
It was simply because... they couldn’t share it.
