Chapter 76: Chapter 77: War Saga (2)

The only beings capable of harming Hell are those within Hell itself. This was a truth universally applicable in all the Hells I had observed. So, this too was a natural consequence.

“Look behind you!”

The soldier, deprived of mobility, shouted.

Behind the barbarian, the guardian was wielding an axe with brutal force.

Splat!

“Ugh, aaaaah!”

The barbarian roared in pain, but it was a meaningless cry. The guardian’s steps were faster than the counterattack of his axe.

It was a movement reminiscent of a wolf in a predatory hunt.

Despite having numerous weapons at his disposal, the guardian used only the weapons held by the four pilgrims.

Even in situations where he could take lives, he engaged in acts bordering on violation, dodging attacks and striking vulnerable points.

Faced with such one-sided violence, I thought, “No way.”

He’s an opponent you can’t win against head-on, even if you try a million times.

“Retreat!”

The Spartan shouted.

But it, too, was an empty cry.

The entrance they came through was tightly sealed, leaving no room for escape.

The paladin, who had retreated to the door supporting the soldier, said,

“The door won’t open!”

At that moment, despair was written all over their faces.

The paladin muttered with a trembling voice,

“Why… why is this happening?”

Even looking directly at the guardian seemed challenging for him.

More than despair, the expression on his face was dominated by betrayal.

“What is this Hell for! What do you want us to do!”

What echoed in his mind were the words he spoke before entering this place.

The smile of the clergyman who never lost faith until the end, now twisted in betrayal, was more vivid than despair.

“Aaargh!”

He screamed and charged at the guardian.

Swoosh—

That’s how he died.

The guardian’s black hand pierced precisely through the paladin’s heart.

As he faced death, the guardian, with a smile, smoothly buried the paladin’s heart within his own body.

“Tick-tock!”

The barbarian ran towards the fallen paladin, attempting to rescue him.

However, the paladin’s gaze was already losing life.

“Get out! It’s dangerous!”

The voice of the Spartan did not reach the barbarian.

With a squelching, unpleasant sound, the axe, too, disappeared into the depths of the War Saga’s body.

For them, having their primary weapon swallowed meant almost certain death.

Next was the Spartan.

In the moment of the barbarian’s futile death, the guardian appeared in front of him.

“Ah, damn.”

That was his last words.

With a squelch, along with the sound, the Spartan’s spear and shield were also swallowed.

Not entirely, though.

Whether it took time to digest, the sword, axe, spear, and shield were still partially embedded in the guardian’s body.

The soldier discovered it and shouted, “Get out! Can’t you do something!”

Already with bullets lodged in his body, making it difficult to walk, he shivered and got up.

“Just one left! We can still win…”

The soldier’s words stopped abruptly.

As if he finally sensed something, he looked around with trembling eyes.

Soon, what popped out was a disappointed smile.

“So that’s how it was.”

Inside the dark temple, following the soldier’s gaze, I could also see what he had found at the edge.

Traces of remains melted to the point of being unrecognizable.

His face twisted.

His gaze eventually turned to the guardian.

“Seniors… It ended like this.”

He seemed to have finally realized the identity of the guardian.

The guardian slowly walked towards the soldier, stopping right in front of him.

He didn’t make any further movements.

The standing guardian seemed to be using the soldier’s gaze as a farewell.

Sadness rose on the soldier’s face.

“In the end, I couldn’t find the answer. It seems it won’t reveal what great sin I committed until the end.”

The guardian finally moved, taking the soldier’s gun and plunging it into its own abdomen.

The gun smoothly entered, as if sinking into mud.

And then, silence.

That’s how the soldier’s body collapsed.

Only I remained.

I looked at the War Saga, still with undigested weapons stuck in its body.

As if it had fulfilled its duty, it returned to the throne, sitting arrogantly once again.

***

For a long time thereafter, I watched the guardian on the throne.

Half of the weapons protruding from the body of the four people were now barely visible, melted down to the hilts.

As I observed this, a sense of nausea enveloped me.

My thoughts revolved around the intention behind witnessing the journey of these individuals together. If someone had orchestrated this for me, why were they showing me such scenes?

But even pondering over such concerns eventually became tiresome.

It soon turned into a sense of alienation.

In a space where the perception of time was elusive, I didn’t know how long it had been, but at some point, a strange feeling arose.

“Why am I still here?”

In my past experiences, whenever I had witnessed everything hell had to offer, whether it was my body or consciousness, it would immediately transition to the next space, accompanied by a sensation akin to being swept away by waves.

Yet, this time, that transition didn’t happen.

I contemplated the meaning and, before I could answer myself, I understood the reason.

There was something left to see.

Thud—

Above the empty face of the War Saga, lips protruded.

It was a sprout.

“Who’s there?”

My eyes widened as if they were about to tear apart.

The owner of that voice was none other than the paladin.

“Is anyone there?”

This time, even hell didn’t provide an answer.

Perhaps because it was something unknown, or maybe it left the judgment entirely to me.

It didn’t matter.

In that moment, I felt a deep relief and an anxiety sufficient to cover it.

“There’s no way to help…”

I was helpless, existing in a state akin to that of a ghost.

My fist clenched.

The voice of the holy knight echoed once again above the war scene.

“…No one. No one’s here. Everyone… has fallen… Oh?”

Thud-thud. The voice cut off.

It was like deleting a portion of data from a music file—artificial and seamless.

“…One, gods… are absent.”

The lips twisted.

A shudder, the body of the War Saga twitched.

As if being pressed down by something, the muscles seemed to be trying to rise, yet kept repeating the motion of trying to sit back down.

I could understand.

The one trying to rise was the paladin, and the one keeping him from standing up was the War Saga.

Inadvertently, I found myself rushing to support him.

Of course, I couldn’t reach him.

However, the paladin began to struggle to rise on his own.

“My… sin…”

The voice, still intermittently cut, gradually became clearer.

“I have… sinned.”

Wobbling, he began to rise again.

“I must atone. To my friends.”

Thud-thud, the left eye of the war scene lit up.

It was the eye of the paladin that I knew.

It twisted and opened repeatedly.

I understood.

The one continuing this pitiful tug-of-war was the paladin, and the one repeatedly pulling him back down was the War Saga.

Every movement was like that.

He moved desperately, as if resisting something desperately.

The faintly remaining hilt of the knife on his chest looked like a piece of his soul that was still there.

―My sin, speaking of God’s mercy. I, if I hadn’t said that.

He reached out his hand.

Thud, the blade protruded from his fingertips.

―If it wasn’t mercy, but victory. If that’s what I said…

Thud, this time his right eye came out.

He looked up.

It was that moment.

―Ah.

Thud―

His neck snapped.

It wasn’t an injury.

Something that had been suppressing the paladin since that movement disappeared.

The movement became smoother, and the laboured steps gained strength.

There was a flicker in his eyes.

It was just an action, but I could understand.

He had gained some enlightenment.

He had gained freedom from it.

―Well, that’s how it was.

He laughed softly.

Rusty tears gathered in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks.

―Ah, was that how it was…

He stared at his hand with the protruding blade.

There was a faint joy in his murmuring.

He crouched down, shaking his shoulders.

―Well, that’s what it was. We were the history of war. The history of humans fighting. The answer we longed for…

Rusty tears fell to the ground.

―…we never knew what we had.

I couldn’t know anything about the change.

So all I could feel was an appreciation for the scene.

The seated paladin in the dark cave, illuminated by the faint light and the unremarkable flower at the end, evoked pity.

I felt compassion in the silence.

He exhaled.

―…We were soldiers. We bore the burden of sin with our bodies, messengers bringing peace.

He embraced his own body.

His actions seemed to be embracing not himself but the countless souls inside him.

―If we had acted as we should have, we wouldn’t have been blinded by this.

Finally, the sharp blade above his hand touched his chest.

My breath stopped.

I could understand what he was about to do.

It was a sensation as if lightning struck in my mind.

‘…!’

Suicide.

He was trying to sacrifice himself to conclude the war.

It was not impossible.

A proposition that cut through all hells.

According to the idea that only beings within hell could harm hell itself, it was possible.

The prisoner, though unable, could harm the part of the warden that was within hell.

My lips trembled.

Now I could understand why hell kept me in this place.

It was to show me this spectacle.

The paladin’s eyes closed firmly towards the stone gate.

As if seeing something, his smile deepened.

Without hesitation, he chanted as if praying.

―Protect and sacrifice, and may peace come.

Eventually, the blade stabbed into his heart.

Squelch―

A small twitch, and then his eyes slowly closed.

Breath and movement gradually ceased.

That’s how the change occurred.

Saaa―

The rusty blood that flowed on the blade turned into powder and scattered.

However, it didn’t go far, but behind him, in front of the throne.

It began to coalesce, blocking the view of the massive jade throne.

What was being completed was a golden door.

…The door that the girl would eventually reach, guided by the butterfly, at the final destination.

Staring at the door without knowing anything, for a long time, the physical form of the war saga melted away slowly.

It was at that moment.

Kugugugung!

The tightly closed stone door opened.

Footsteps were heard.

I turned my head, and

Kiiiiing!

I lost sight along with the ringing in my ears.

I left the space.

The destination was a completely different place.

“Hello, I’m a butterfly.”

The Hell of Resentment.

That’s how I met the girl and the butterfly.

The memories from the hell of war were puzzling in many ways.

In reality, even after facing that event to the end, I didn’t truly understand its meaning.

I only truly realized the meaning after seeing the Hell of Resentment.

Presumably.

The golden door.

Alone shining in the darkness of hell, it was undoubtedly the path to salvation.

One couldn’t grasp that salvation with their own hands.

The butterfly said that, and just like the paladin, the door was likely a device that is summoned after sacrificing oneself to save others.

In reality, didn’t the butterfly and the paladin not enter the golden door, but after sending someone through the door, they didn’t disappear?

It was an extension of that story.

The paladin said that ‘they’ carried the burden of sin on his body as a messenger bringing peace.

In the end, he said.

Protect and sacrifice, and may peace come.

It was their way, and he expressed what he had to do with the word ‘we,’ so maybe the reason they fell into ‘hell’ was also in those words.

Just like a piece of cheese placed in the middle of a mousetrap, perhaps what they had to save was someone other than themselves.

Just as they did in their lifetime.

It seemed like quite a fitting ending for something called the War Saga.

In the end, the bizarre amalgamation created by them, named ‘War Saga,’ saved someone in the future through their own mistakes and despair.

Of course, there were still puzzling points.

Why did only the paladin not get swallowed by the War Saga and briefly seize control?

What process did the paladin go through at the last moment to gain enlightenment and be able to suicide?

Why did the things that oppressed him suddenly stop?

I probably would never be able to find the answers.

Let’s just make a hopeful guess.

Maybe the oppression towards him was lifted because the souls that were embedded in the War Saga helped the paladin.

Interpretation is up to each person.

If the game is released, users will also interpret it in their own ways, and I had no intention of intruding into that domain.

However, just for the sake of having one device.

‘Because no one saved them.’

Because there is no one else but me to remember those who sacrificed even after death.

Because I am the only one to honour the heroes whose names I didn’t even know until the end.

Now, with my feeble imagination, I am trying to give them a different ending.

In addition, I want to create an ending that is necessary for the game.

‘Multiple endings.’

Hellic 3 will prepare three endings in line with the number 3.

I said to the people gathered in the meeting room.

“The boss battle will be divided into three parts.”

/RomanceMTL