Chapter 86: If I Never Bowed My Head… |
When his arm was first severed, the Bard didn’t even register what had happened.
“AAAAHHHH!” A few seconds later, he let out a miserable howl of agony, curling up on the ground in pain.
“AAAAHHHH!”
“Please… please…”
He didn’t dare to resist. He could only curl up and beg.
“It hurts… it hurts so much… please… please… let me go…”
Even though the pain made it hard to speak clearly, the Bard didn’t dare show any hostility, terrified that his other hand would be chopped off next.
But unfortunately, it was completely useless.
The golden knight’s sword fell once again.
“AAAAHHHH!”
The Bard writhed on the ground in agony, snot and tears mixing together.
The knight’s tone remained calm.
“I can reattach your severed limbs, as long as you beg me from the bottom of your heart.”
“I… I really…”
“Don’t bother making excuses,” the knight interrupted him. “I can tell whether you truly mean it or not.”
Those words seemed to have some effect. A few minutes later, the Bard quickly stopped wailing.
He curled up on the ground, struggling to lift his head and look at the knight before him. The pain made it hard to speak.
“You might not know this,” the knight said in a low voice, “but this world isn’t real. Neither are you.”
“Let go of the Pride in your heart. I can save you. I can grant you everything you desire.”
“Wh… what?” The Bard stared at the knight in confusion.
“Exactly what I said. You aren’t real,” the knight affirmed.
The Bard fell silent. He lowered his head to look at his severed hand and foot, sinking into silence as his mind churned.
A few seconds later, the Bard gritted his teeth against the pain and spoke in a strained, halting voice.
“Ah… I… I think I’ve figured out a little…”
Without continuing that topic, the knight paused for two seconds, then looked up at the burning Liant Town. “Every single person in this city is you. And you are the most worthless among them all.”
“Some of them fight desperately to protect their wealth. Others fight desperately to protect their families.”
“But you have nothing. You only have your own life.”
“I want you to submit. I can take you away from here. I can make you a true human being.”
“I can reattach your severed limbs. I can give you inexhaustible wealth and a status that towers over thousands.”
“Let go of that meaningless Pride.”
“As long as you are willing to beg me from the bottom of your heart, as long as you express your submission sincerely—”
“I swear on my honor as a knight: if you are willing to beg me from the bottom of your heart, I will save you. I will make you a true human being. I will give you everything you desire.”
The Bard lifted his head to look at him.
“Every single person is me?” he repeated.
He looked around, then lowered his head again. It felt like something had clicked into place in his mind, like he understood something.
The knight watched him.
“You don’t need to be anyone’s shadow,” the knight said. “For you, that so-called ‘real’ you has never existed. You’ve never even touched it.”
“You don’t need to hold out for a stranger.”
The Bard kept his head down.
“I see… I think I’ve figured it out…”
“So, what is your answer?” the knight asked calmly.
But this time, it was the Bard who didn’t answer his question.
He just kept his head down, muttering to himself.
“Pride… huh?”
He laughed abruptly.
Even though his wounds still hurt terribly, making him tremble.
But he was definitely laughing.
“Pride… that actually sounds pretty good. A lot more pleasant than ‘Continuity’ or ‘Conquest.’”
It seemed like he remembered something. In an instant, he seemed to become a different person.
“Shadow… it seems you’ve misunderstood something…”
“I’ve never thought of myself as anyone’s shadow. I am me,” the Bard said.
“If that’s the case, then you should be even more willing to break away from him,” the knight said.
“No. He is me, and I am him.” The Bard forced his head up, his tear-streaked eyes fixed on the knight, staring into the knight’s eyes through the gaps in his helmet. “I don’t need to prove anything by breaking away from someone.”
“To achieve my goals, I can do anything…”
“Crying and wailing with my head down, kneeling and begging for mercy…”
“I’ve never cared what others think of me. None of that matters…”
Gradually, the sobbing disappeared from the Bard’s voice.
“I see.” The knight raised his heavy sword again. “This is my final question…”
His patience had limits. He wasn’t going to waste too much time on a single Bard.
“Are you truly… unwilling to bow your head?”
The Bard didn’t answer. Instead, he asked back:
“The me you know—what kind of person am I?”
“I don’t know you,” the knight answered honestly. “I don’t know the you here, nor do I know the real you.”
“Is that so.” The Bard smiled. With one hand supporting himself on the ground, he struggled to shift from a curled-up position into sitting cross-legged on one leg.
“Then surely you’ve at least heard of me, right? Since you were able to come here.”
Pain and a smile mingled on the same face, making it look somewhat grotesque.
But he just lifted his head, looking up at the towering knight before him.
The humility in his eyes had been swept away, replaced by nothing but calm.
He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Because he was him.
The knight nodded. “I have indeed heard of you.”
“Then, in the stories you’ve heard, was I a lowly person?” The Bard lifted his head.
“… ”
“You’re going to die here.” The knight didn’t answer his question.
But the Bard had already gotten the answer he wanted.
“Heh heh heh. I’m honored. No matter which version of me it is.”
“Not everyone in this city is my target, but there are at least no fewer than three hundred. So don’t think too highly of yourself.” The knight’s patience had completely run out.
“No. I am the most important one of all.” The Bard looked at him, grinning.
“I’m honored. Honored that I was able to come into this world as ‘me.’”
“Die?”
“So what.”
“If I never bowed my head, then I never will…”
*Thump.*
The longsword swept across. His head was severed from his neck and rolled to the ground.
His body twitched a couple of times before going limp. He had chosen his angle well; even without the support of consciousness, his body didn’t topple over.
Of course, it was also partly because the knight’s sword was incredibly fast and sharp. Otherwise, even a nudge would have knocked it over.
The head that had fallen to the ground didn’t die instantly.
It rolled a couple of times, its eyes still wide open.
His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.
Yet the knight could still read his lips.
He said:
“Then I will uphold this [Pride], even unto death.”