Chapter 593: Tree

Beneath a sky of pure blue stretched pale-green fields.

Clouds rolled and unfurled across the heavens, casting huge blocks of shadow. A light breeze propped up curling cooking smoke. Quiet and beautiful—like a master’s painting.

Glug-glug.

Soup bubbled.

In front of a crude little tent, a small girl with a few smears of mud on her face was focused on tending the clay pot over the campfire.

Now and then, she tossed a few little flowers and grasses into the pot—plants Muen didn’t recognize at all. Other times, she shook a few pinches of powder from her treasured little bottles and jars. After a bit of stirring, a wild-vegetable soup that had no delicacies in it—didn’t even have a hint of oil—somehow gave off a rich aroma that made your mouth water.

"Want some?"

As Muen stared blankly into the pot, the little girl ladled out a bowl and held it out in both hands.

She tilted up her face. Those big, dark eyes blinked and blinked, full of spirit. The faint freckles on her cheeks were visible, and there was none of that earlier pallor or grotesqueness left.

She really did look like nothing more than an ordinary little girl.

"Thank you."

Muen accepted the wild-vegetable soup without hesitation and took a light sip.

At once, an odd fragrance—like it came from deep in the forest—filled his mouth and jolted his senses awake. And the seasoning, perfectly balanced, gave it layers. It was hard to believe something that didn’t lose to a top chef’s cooking... was just a simple bowl of wild-vegetable soup.

"It’s really good."

After draining it in one go, Muen praised her.

"Thank you."

The little girl smiled slightly, revealing a cute dimple—then her eyes dimmed, and she said with regret, "But it’s a shame. You can’t truly taste it."

"...Yeah. What I’m tasting right now is just what you believe, deep in your consciousness... is the most delicious thing in the world. It isn’t real." Muen turned to look off to the side.

Beyond this peaceful field—this place that felt like a secluded paradise, soothing to the heart—were countless chaotic images, flickering nonstop like shattered monitors.

The world was split in two. One half was the safest place in the little girl’s heart. The other half was a terrifying rift that could not heal.

That was only natural. When something rooted in it «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» was forcibly pulled out, it would inevitably leave a wound.

"Watching him go crazy like that—willing to use any means to save you—I thought... you two must’ve been through some deeply moving story together."

Muen looked at those images. Through the incomplete shards, he gradually pieced together the past of the Indra King and the little girl.

"And the result... is just this ordinary." Muen couldn’t help sighing.

There was no complicated chain of cause and effect.

No tearjerking reason.

If you set aside their identities as a Crowned and a source-blood Awakener...

What those broken images showed was just an old man, going from fumbling and flustered to practiced; from resisting in every possible way at the start, to having his entire heart and mind hooked by her...

A very ordinary story... of a father clumsily raising a child.

A story like this happened every day in this world. Even if you recorded it and told it, it would still feel too dull.

"Yeah. Ordinary to the point of being ordinary."

The little girl tilted her head too, smiling as she watched those images.

"But for me, this is the best!"

"Fair."

Muen patted the little girl’s head. "You’re right. A father saving his daughter—who needs a reason for that? But... setting that aside, he really did do wrong."

"...I’m sorry."

The little girl lowered her head and tugged at the corner of Muen’s robe. "It’s all my fault. It was me..."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"But those beast urges—"

"Beast urges are beast urges. That isn’t your nature."

Muen comforted her. "Someone once told me: the harm of power doesn’t lie in power itself, but in the person who uses it. You were just used. No one blames a knife for being sharp when it cuts a finger."

"Thank you..."

Hearing that, the little girl bit her lip, eyes reddening, and thanked him again. "Thank you, big brother."

"No need to thank me, Biki."

Muen gently drew the little girl’s fading afterimage into his arms. "I just did what I had to do."

...

...

"...Hah."

Muen opened his eyes. The black color in them faded. The black flames dispersed. And he, too, seemed to go limp—slumping and dropping to the side.

A gentle breeze suddenly swept in, supporting Muen and easing him down. The rainwater on the ground had already been evaporated dry. There wasn’t even a speck of dust left.

Muen’s gaze slid sideways, and he saw the Indra King—who had been unstoppable just moments ago—now seeming to have become an ordinary old man, staring at him with an anxious face.

"Sa... saved her?"

One of the world’s few top experts—someone who could crush peers even while fighting one-against-two—now looked oddly cramped and uncertain. Facing Muen, an enemy he had once personally tried to kill, he didn’t know what expression to make on that aged face.

"More or less. She survived."

Muen looked at the little girl on the ground.

The stitched marks on her body had been swallowed by the black flames as well. She no longer looked grotesque and terrifying like before, but anyone could see how weak she was now.

Still—her chest rose and fell faintly. That meant her life had, at the end of the day, been pulled back from the edge of death.

"It’s just... the beast urges have eroded her consciousness too severely. Her mental space is clearly damaged. I don’t know how much memory and intelligence will remain when she wakes... In the worst case, she may have to start over from scratch—like a baby, a blank sheet."

"A baby..."

The Indra King’s lips moved. Then he shook his head, let out a bleak sigh, and said seriously, "That’s enough... it’s already enough. It’s far better than I imagined. As long as she can be healthy, as long as she can recover, even if it means starting over... thank you. And for what I did before, I apologize again."

"You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t save her because of you—I saved her because I wanted to save her. After being led around by the Inner Council for so long, I had to actually save something, didn’t I?"

Muen first glanced at the two big shots’ heads on the ground. The corner of his eye twitched. Then he turned toward the Lower City. From the brightness of the fires, it looked like the chaos over there had already calmed down a lot. "With that, those beastified people... should be able to recover too, right?"

"...They should."

"But... apology gifts and the like don’t matter. Your atonement does."

Muen stared seriously into the Indra King’s eyes. "Even if you didn’t strike with your own hands, you participated in this. You indirectly caused many innocents to be harmed. That sin—you have to bear it."

"Don’t worry. I won’t shirk it."

The Indra King pressed his hands together, as if returning to the ascetic he once was, and vowed solemnly, "No matter how long it takes, no matter what price I pay, I will atone... I only ask that you don’t take it out on her."

"...You really are a good father."

Muen smiled faintly. Bracing a hand against the wall, he swayed as he stood. The Indra King moved to support him, but Muen raised a hand and refused.

After he smoothed out his breathing a bit, Muen bowed toward the three people off to the side.

"Thank you, the three of you, for your help."

"Ashamed, ashamed. In truth, we didn’t help much at all."

The Archbishop of Canterbury stroked his beard with a sigh.

This time, not only had they failed to take down a single enemy, they’d even lost a two-on-one and nearly caused a disaster. For him, it was genuinely embarrassing.

"Sure, sure—as long as the agreed money shows up."

Adolf didn’t have that kind of shame in him. With zero sense of age gap, he slung an arm around Muen’s shoulders.

"But kid, that black flame of yours just now... it didn’t look simple. Tsk, tsk... I haven’t seen something that nasty in a long time."

"Lord Adolf, please help me keep it secret."

Muen gave a bitter smile.

"Keeping it secret is fine, but—"

Adolf’s eyes spun as he plotted something. But as his gaze shifted, he suddenly saw the Indra King silently staring at him. His expression froze, and he forced a sheepish grin, swallowing the rest of his words.

"Heh heh. I’m joking. Joking."

"..."

"Since you’re fine, I’ll head back first."

Professor Plang came over, leaning on his silver staff. He examined Muen seriously, then lifted a finger. A huge flow of pure magic power poured into Muen’s body, making the still-weak Muen let out a long breath.

"Does the professor have other matters to attend to?"

"The unrest hasn’t settled. I need to go back and hold the academy."

"...Yeah. The unrest still hasn’t settled."

The scent of smoke and gunpowder stirred by the cold wind drifted into the majestic palace walls.

No matter what was happening in the Lower City, no matter what was happening here, the outcome inside that palace was what truly concerned the future of the entire empire.

"But... if it’s Celicia, there shouldn’t be any problem, right."

Even though the direction of events had already drifted a hundred thousand miles away from the original plot he knew, when it came to that princess’s capabilities alone, Muen was completely at ease.

"Alright. No matter what, next I also need to... huh?"

As if he sensed something, Muen’s gaze sharpened and he looked up.

Professor Plang, who had been about to leave, also stopped and looked up.

"This is..."

In fact, it wasn’t just Muen. It wasn’t just Professor Plang.

At this moment, anyone in the city couldn’t help but lift their head, staring at the sky in shock.

Golden light blazed, reflecting on every stunned face.

In the deep night—long before dawn should have arrived—boundless radiance surged up, illuminating everything like day.

First, a massive pillar of light rose from within the palace. Then the streams of light split like a river, branching into countless tributaries.

And then, on those tributaries, countless indescribable, profound points of starlight and patterns traced outlines, forming vivid flowers and leaves...

A trunk... branches... flowers and leaves...

It was a tree. A golden colossal tree that covered the entire imperial capital, Berland!

"What... is that?"

Muen stared blankly as the tree grew and spread, its light washing across the whole city. This development—completely outside his expectations—made his brain stall for a moment.

Then, for some reason, he suddenly remembered something Celicia had once said.

"This country... is like a tree..."

A tree whose roots were partly rotten, yet whose branches and leaves were still lush.

"No way, Celicia..."

Muen’s mouth twitched as he muttered, "You meant it for real..."