Chapter 477: Downtown Naval Warfare (1)
sswaaaaa-
The rain poured down like a torrent.
The world that had been turned into a sea was rippling more and more ferociously.
The people gathered in Tochka gradually became restless.
"Aren't we going to starve to death here, stuck in this place?"
"What – there's still plenty of food, isn't there?"
"But what if this flood continues?"
"It's only supposed to last 150 days. We have enough food and more water, so it's okay."
"But it's already an ocean outside, and how do we know the flood will stop in 150 days?"
"Well, Don Quixote's eldest son is on his way to pick up the Armada, so that's why we're all waiting."
The rumors among the refugees weren't false.
In fact, Tochka, in the highlands, is one of the most secure fortresses in the world, and a completely isolated, deserted island.
Is that why? Vikir was still gazing longingly out to sea today.
...Squash!
The waves crashed against the solid walls of the fortress on the high plateau.
The white bubbles that broke the water were like a field of flowers.
"...."
Vikir sat on the ramparts in the pouring rain.
The cold rain pounded against his body, as if cooling hot iron.
Then.
"Raining again today, what a pity."
A voice came from behind Vikir.
It was Camus.
She walked to Vikir's side, soaking wet, too.
"It's pouring like crazy."
Camu said as she watched the water cascade down the ramparts.
"This would have been a disaster if it weren't for the sea of ??fire the demons created, but the two plagues have worked together to lessen the damage. I assume this is what you calculated in Nouvelle Vague, before the volcano erupted."
"Mostly."
Vikir nodded quietly.
The math wasn't perfect, but it was close.
But if the margin of error had been a little wider, something really bad would have happened.
"...."
"...."
Vikir and Camus looked in the same direction.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Finally, it was Camus who spoke first.
"...I'm sorry about your father."
At that, Vikir, who had been standing motionless, reacted.
At most, his shoulders shook slightly.
The memory of that day is still fresh in his mind.
'...Why did you do that?'
'I don't know.'
The memory fades to white. White ashes. Now scattered in the rain.
Hugo, who had been burned to death, was a hero to everyone in Tochka that day.
But Vikir can't help but see him as a complicated figure.
"...He."
Vikir spoke after a long silence.
"I don't know how he crossed the threshold of the 9th Form."
It was a far cry from his previous life.
Camus pauses at Vikir's words.
"Actually...."
"?"
"He came to visit me a long time ago."
Camus's testimony came as a surprise to Vikir.
"It was not long after the trial in Nakajaniye, and he wanted to discuss with me a way to get you out of prison. Oh, and by the way, Sady, I think he and that woman were holding hands back then, too."
The fact that Sady and Hugo were holding hands was a bit of a surprise to Vikir.
It seems that Hugo had more in mind for Vikir than he realized.
The process of CindyWendy finding Sady, who had disappeared, the process by which Aiyen was able to go to Nouvelle Vague to avoid summary execution, and Sady's ability to create a false identity and pass through the Gate of Nouvelle Vague.
It was all thanks to a helping hand that was just around the corner.
Vikir's mind flashed back to the image of Hugo in the courtroom.
-The Baskervilles' case is as follows. The crimes of rebellion, murder with intent to kill, and poisoning of the patriarch are grave and heinous, but the accused is of Baskerville blood and deserves to be treated as a nobleman. Therefore, we ask for a ruling of mitigating circumstances.
Hugo sits backwards in his wheelchair, having made no objection to the sentence.
"...."
Vikir was speechless.
Camus continued the story.
"When we were talking about helping you escape, the topic of the Wraith Tree came up, and I couldn't help but mention the Grave of the Swords."
Camus raised her hand.
Tsutsutsutsutsutsutsuts...
The Wraith Tree waved its long, stubby branches in the air.
"I'm surprised the Wraith Tree reacted to Hugo, he must have read 'some memory' from it."
Vikir nodded silently at Camus' words.
He had a point.
[There is something to be gained by those who step into the realm of the supreme, and continue to fight with the same heart as when they first held the sword.]
[This is a realm that defies ordinary human understanding, empathy, conviction, faith, common sense, probability, and causality. No being who has not experienced death can ever set foot here.]
[You will probably never attain this realm in your lifetime].
[For the realm of the 9th Form lies at the threshold of death, beyond it].
[If you're a true Baskerville, you'll come here at the end of your life].
[You will see it again someday].
What Hugo saw was probably the figure of CaneCorso.
What did he feel in his older brother's words?
Vikir thought again.
The 6th Form. A state of mind that can only be reached by transcending all emotion.
The 7th Form. A state of mind that can only be attained by reclaiming emotions that have been abandoned.
The 8th Form. A state of mind that can only be attained by fighting through countless devastating battles, just like the first time you held a sword.
The 9th Form. An incomprehensible zone at the core of the highest realms that only those who have experienced death can ascend to.
"...."
What must have been Hugo's mind as he crossed the threshold.
At the edge of the threshold between life and death, Vikir thought and thought and thought.
at that time.
Thud.
Camus tapped Vikir on the shoulder.
"Don't try to take it all on yourself. You've come all this way, think of the people who care about you."
"...That's right."
And then there was a voice that agreed with Camus.
Dolores. She appeared in front of the wall and offered Vikir her umbrella.
"These people here are all Vikir's followers, ready to follow him wherever he goes, aren't they?"
"...That's true, but don't I have an umbrella?"
"It's for two people."
Ignoring Camus's grumbling, Dolores continued to speak to Vikir.
"Don't worry about Tudor. He's a strong fellow, I'm sure he'll come back with the Armada."
At her words, Vikir turned his head back toward the sea.
The storm is raging, the waves are rising, and it seems as if no fleet could sail against it.
Now that they had won the game, it was urgent, but it was a very frustrating and hopeless situation.
"I'm always watching from the watchtower, so you should go inside. I don't want you to get sick."
Aiyen, who had suddenly appeared, said to Vikir.
Her superhuman eyesight, capable of seeing for miles, far surpassed Vikir's, and if Tudor came with his Armada, she would be the first to see him.
"What is it, barbarian? Why do you keep flirting with other people's men?"
"Barbarian? do you want to be stripped naked again?"
"Oh, it reminds me of the old days? You think that's still possible?"
Camus of Morg and Aiyen of Balak hadn't gotten along well then or now.
Then.
"Stop fighting. It's hard enough on the mind, brother."
Sinclair appeared, having finished repairing the walls.
Camus and Aiyen narrowed their eyes at her, but Sinclair shrugged them off.
She set down a cup of hot tea in front of Vikir and spoke.
"The next battle will be the final one. Why don't you have a cup of tea to calm your nerves?"
" ...We're going to the Imperial Castle. I've only heard of it in literature."
Beside Sinclair was Kirko, who was in charge of security.
Kirko turned to Vikir.
"By the way, does this mean that everyone who lives in the lowlands is dead?"
"We've gathered as many people as we can to Tochka to prevent that from happening, and we've already relocated those who couldn't make it here in time and space to other highlands. I think we've done all we can."
Sinclair answered instead.
They had apparently been having this conversation all the way here.
Just then.
"Huh!?"
Aiyen, who'd been clinging to Vikir's side, exchanging glances with Camus, jumped to her feet.
Her good eyesight had seen something beyond the darkness and the churning waters of the storm.
Then she cried out.
"They're here! It's the Armada!"
She was right.
Soon, through the churning waters and storm, the great ships began to approach.
The large, massive ships ignored the waves and headed straight for the highlands of Tochka.
The number of such ships was countless. Their majesty is truly staggering.
Dolores shouted with joy.
"It's Tudor! Tudor are back!"
True to her word, the banner of Don Quixote fluttered from the foremast at the top of the captain's ship in front.
There were even a surprisingly large number of people on board.
"It's true! Tochka didn't flood!"
"Is there really food there?"
"Alas, there really is salvation! There was a land that was not flooded!"
"I should have believed the words of the Night Walkers then! If only I had...."
Aboard the enormous ships were an equally enormous number of refugees.
And at the stern of the lead ship, two familiar faces appeared.
It was Tudor and Bianca.
"Vikir, I apologize for being later than promised, it's disgraceful!"
"We're late because this idiot came by and said we had to save all the people stranded in the highlands!"
The two were still bickering even at this emotional moment.
Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinclair, and Kirko looked at the many other refugees coming to Tochka with concern.
"We'll have less food if we let them in, won't we?"
"Hmm, and there might be new security problems."
"It's okay, they said we have enough food, and the security is manageable with the addition of the Nouvelle Vague team."
"Five months, maybe. We've spent all our family's assets."
"I'm all for seeking justice, but I don't want anything to get in the way of the final battle."
Then.
"It doesn't matter. I have to leave here soon anyway."
Vikir finally stood up.
"It's time for the final round."
Everyone's faces hardened.
They, too, understood what Vikir was saying.
Soon, the final battle would be fought on the Imperial Capital.
The final hour was approaching.
* * *
The number and variety of ships Tudor brought with him was staggering.
The longships, with their small hulls and shallow draft, allowed for small, fast maneuvers; the Carvi, with 13 rows of oars and 26 oarsmen; the Sneka, with 20 rows of oars and 40 oarsmen; the Skade, with a capacity of one hundred combatants; the Draka, with over a thousand combatants; and so on.
What's more, the crews of these vessels are veterans of Don Quixote's vast expeditions, who know how to navigate the vast expanse of the open sea.
Not only did they possess tremendous navigational skills as they navigated the North Sea, where drift ice was floating, but they also had the courage and fortitude to rush to the center of the empire, which became the sea.
Chwaaaag- Squash!
Countless ships cut through the rough seas.
The Baskerville, the Marg, the Quovadis, the Bourgeois, and even the survivors of the Don Quixote and Usher families.
What's more, the Colosseo Academy, the Themiscyra Women's College, the Varangian Boot Camp, and the Magic Tower are all in attendance.
Prominent figures such as Osiris, the Seven Counts, Respane, Adolf, Pope Nabokov I, Cardinal Luther, Archbishop Mozgus, Demian, and Principal Banshee were all standing at the forefront.
And in addition to that, everyone who has been in a relationship so far gathers in one place and fires up their will to fight.
The Allied Forces of Tochka went to the imperial capital aboard Don Quixote's ship.
Going inward, further inward, tracing the map of the Imperial Capital, which has now been transformed into a sea chart.
Meanwhile.
"...."
Aboard the lead ship, Vikir stood at the stern, gazing out at the endless horizon.
Cheolgeuleog-
Every time the ship rocks from side to side, you can hear the sound of the chains wrapped around Vikir's hands scraping on the deck.
Beside him, Minpin and Chihuahua look worried.
"Oh no, Deputy, there's over there...!"
Vikir turned his gaze in the direction Chihuahua was pointing.
A giant shadow streaked across the water beside the ship.
An enormous sea monster of some unknown nature could be seen passing beneath the water.
It's a species that, by definition, shouldn't live here.
'I can see how the Imperial Capital must have changed.'
Where the emperor lives. No, now the crown prince lives here.
I can only imagine what the submerged place must look like now.
In the center of the empire, on the Impeial Capital, the last stand would be made. The 1st Corpse the protagonist who led the Age of Destruction.
And the end of the many lives Vikir has crossed.
The revenge of his fallen comrades was slowly coming to an end.
Whiiiiing-
A strong sea breeze blew and inflated the sails.
The ship began to fly over the waves.
cheolgeuleog-
The sound of chains scraping the deck again.
Vikir tightened his grip on the chain in his hand.
Minpin, beside him, turned to the end of the chain and stammered a question.
"Uh, by the way, Deputy. I've been wondering before... what is that?"
He didn't ask because he didn't really know what the thing at the end of the chain was.
It was a coffin.
What Vikir was carrying was a large, heavy coffin.
No telling who was inside.
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