An Unforgiving Soul
Back in the Zeus Woods, the spirits finally led us to the place we had been searching for. And I couldn’t help but gasp.
A vast flower field stretched out before us—endless color, endless life—so perfect it almost looked staged.
We stood in the middle of countless varieties of blooms. Blooms that should have been burned to ash.
Mariada and Asahi looked genuinely awestruck, faces softened by the beauty. Reina and I… didn’t. Amazement was there, yes—but confusion sat on top of it like a weight.
We scanned the field with the eyes of people who had seen what this place was supposed to look like.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I muttered, then turned slightly toward Reina. “Does it seem strange to you, too?”
“Yes,” Reina answered without hesitation. “It does.”
The field was flawless—perfect in every conceivable way. And coming from a place we remembered as ruined, that perfection felt unnatural.
I turned to the spirits, unimpressed on purpose, as if skepticism could keep the unease from creeping up my spine.
“Are you sure this is the place?”
“Yes…” The spirits answered. “This is where the human fought Mother… and died.”
I frowned. “Then why are there no burn marks? Not even one?”
The land was pristine. Too clean.
The flower-crowned spirit floated closer quickly, eager to correct what she clearly saw as my misunderstanding.
“Mother restored every single flower that was destroyed after the battle,” she said.
I stared.
“…She nourished them back to life again,” She added, as if that were something you did after breakfast.
The revelation hit harder than I expected.
Regrowing a field burned by salamanders and chaos wasn’t “strong.” It was absurd.
“That’s insane…” I whispered. “She must be incredibly powerful.”
Reina’s voice cut in, sharp and cold with logic. “If she defeated Marcus, she must be. And if she was the one controlling him as well…”
She paused, eyes narrowing.
“This will be a tough encounter.”
What she said clashed with the promise I’d made.
“Okay,” I said quickly, trying to keep her from slipping fully into battle mode. “Calm down. We’re not here to—”
(Master. It’s coming.)
Death’s Mercy’s voice struck my mind like a hand on the shoulder.
Urgent.
A warning that allowed no argument. And before I could respond—
“She’s here,” Asahi said out loud, sensing it too.
“What? Already?!” I snapped, my head turning toward the direction Asahi faced.
In an instant, everyone shifted into readiness.
Urizee braced behind Asahi and Rita. Mariada stepped forward without thinking, placing herself between me and whatever was approaching.
“Young master—stay back!” she warned.
Only Reina stood alone, neither protector nor protected—just a blade waiting to be drawn.
(Master, shall I come to assist you?) Death’s Mercy asked.
(Not now.) I answered immediately. (I don’t want to incite hostility.)
A pause.
(Understood.)
And something about that—about him asking instead of commanding—caught me off guard.
(You know, Mercy… that’s the first time you’ve politely asked.) The thought slipped out before I could stop it. (Are you feeling okay?)
No response.
I let out a small, breathless chuckle—more disbelief than humor—then snapped my attention back to the field.
Everyone looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Then the air changed.
Mana converged at a single point ahead—tightening, compressing—then burst outward like a silent shockwave, flooding the Zeus Woods with crushing pressure.
The flowers bowed.
Petals and pollen rose into a spiraling storm, forming a vortex around an unseen center. And from deep within it, a voice emerged—angelic, beautiful…
…laced with fury.
“You dare trespass on my sacred field again—human?!”
The words were polite in sound. But the intent behind them could tear flesh from bone.
The spirits behind me quivered, lights flickering with panic. They knew hiding was useless. She would find them regardless.
I stepped forward half a pace, careful not to look like a threat.
“Hello,” I called, forcing my voice steady. “Sorry for trespassing. But we come in peace—”
Silence answered.
Then the whirlwind slowed. Petals fell like snow. And the vortex dissolved.
A figure stood where the storm had been.
She wore robes unlike anything I’d seen—neither human nor beast nor elf, not in this world and not in my old one. Her beauty was undeniable, but her expression held anger so pure it looked like a permanent shape.
Her gaze drifted across us, pausing on Rita for a heartbeat—recognition, or warning.
Then she moved.
She stopped at me.
And I felt it—her attention brushing past my face, as if she were looking through me at something deeper than skin.
“Syria…” she said softly.
The name was gentle. Not cruel. Almost kind.
Behind me, the flower-crowned spirit flinched at being called—like a child caught doing something forbidden.
I didn’t understand at first. Not until I realized: She wasn’t addressing me. She was addressing them.
“Why did you bring them here?” the Superior Spirit asked Syria.
“What…?” Confusion slipped out before I could stop it.
I opened my mouth to apologize—
“Quiet, human,” she cut me off, voice suddenly harsh. “Syria. Come.”
She opened her palm.
Syria hovered there for a moment—trembling—then slowly floated forward.
We watched as she approached her mother and was gathered into a touch softer than a newborn’s breath. The affection was overwhelming, and Syria’s remorse spilled out immediately.
“Syria… sorry, Mother…” She lowered her face.
"It's okay."
“But please!" Syria continued. "Krai is Syria’s new friend. Don’t fight Krai!”
“Really?” The Superior Spirit smiled—warm, brief, and terrifying in how easily it appeared. “I’m glad.”
Her fingers stroked Syria once, comforting.
“And I promise,” she said gently, “I won’t fight Krai.”
Relief washed over Syria’s tiny face.
“Now go,” the Superior Spirit said. “Leave this to me.”
“Mhm,” Syria nodded obediently. "Bye, Krai!"
Then she flew—fast enough that her light vanished among the trees.
Once Syria was out of sight, the Superior Spirit turned, her expression hardening again.
“The rest of you—leave as well.”
The remaining spirits obeyed instantly, disappearing into the forest like frightened sparks.
Only we remained.
Her presence pressed down on the field. And the air grew heavy.
“Now,” she said, voice calm enough to be cruel, “I’ll ask again—why are you here?”
The kindness she’d shown a moment ago was for Syria—and only Syria. What we received was cold malice wrapped in perfect composure.
Her voice was quieter now, but the threat in it had not lessened. If anything, it was sharper.
“As I told the lesser spirits, I’m—” I started.
“It’s Syria,” she cut in at once. “Her name is Syria.”
The correction was harsh enough to sting.
Mariada and Reina both narrowed their eyes, irritation flashing across their faces. Their expressions made it clear they hated the way she spoke to me.
I swallowed my pride. Pride was useless here.
“Right… sorry.” I dipped my head slightly. “As I told Syria, I'm only here to learn the state and whereabouts of my mentor. I apologize for trespassing, but I had no choice.”
Her gaze didn’t soften.
“Just like you had no choice the first time you came here,” she said, voice cold as stone, “and destroyed all these innocent flowers—spirit buds yet to be born?”
“That—” I hesitated. The words caught in my throat. “It wasn’t our fault those flowers burned. We were ambushed and the salamanders—”
“I will not hear your excuses,” she said, looking down at me like I was something stuck to her field. “You will pay for what you did.”
A pause.
“Just like the human who stayed behind.”
The sentence landed heavily.
It was the kind of threat that didn’t need volume to be terrifying. And yet… it was the example she used that cracked the air between us.
Reina moved first.
“What did you say?” her voice cut in, sharp.
The Superior Spirit’s eyes slid toward her.
“…You heard me.”
Reina’s expression changed.
Cold. Focused. Killer intent simmering behind her eyes like ice about to break.
Mariada’s aura rose as well—quiet, protective bloodlust.
Compared to the pressure pouring off the Superior Spirit, their presence was nothing but a candle against a storm.
But they didn’t care.
I did.
“You two,” I said, stepping half a pace to anchor them with my voice. “Control yourselves.”
My tone was stern—firm enough to be heard, not harsh enough to disrespect them. Even as Lord, they were still my elders.
Reina and Mariada obeyed. Their auras lowered. Their faces did not.
I turned back to the Superior Spirit before the moment could slip into violence.
“Sorry,” I said, forcing calm. “I can’t let them fight you. It would break the promise I made to Syria.”
The Spirit studied me.
“I see she has taken quite a liking to you.”
“Yes,” I said, and despite myself, a faint laugh threatened to slip out. “She’s… surprisingly considerate toward humans.”
“She is,” the Superior Spirit said, and for a heartbeat her voice warmed. “Such a darling.”
I let out a small chuckle—more nerves than humor—because it was easier than showing fear.
But even in that brief softness, something else was happening. From her open palm, fine spores drifted into the air—pollen-like, shimmering. Beautiful at first glance. But wrong the moment you kept looking.
“…However,” she continued, voice flattening again, “she was greatly saddened when some of the flowers burned to death and could not be revived.”
“Huh?” I blinked.
Her eyes sharpened.
“Krai,” she said, tasting my name like it meant something she didn’t approve of. “I, too, made a promise to Syria. I will not fight you.”
My chest loosened for half a breath—
Then her gaze moved quickly across all of us.
It lingered on Asahi and Urizee—on how they stood, who protected whom.
Rita stepped in front of Asahi on instinct. Asahi stepped in front of Urizee. Mariada shifted again, ready to shield me.
Protection chains. Weaknesses. Bonds.
The superior spirit measured them all. And she smiled—small, cold, and utterly unforgiving.
“But you will suffer the same fate as her,” She said.
The words hit like a curse.
Then she rose.
Not with effort, not with motion—just lifted from the ground as if the world itself refused to make her walk.
She hovered until she was slightly above our eye level, robes stirring as petals swirled upward again.
The pressure returned, heavier.
The spores continued to drift—quiet as falling dust, patient as poison.
As she ascended, the tension rose with her.
She was preparing something. And whatever it was…
It wasn’t going to be gentle.
“Young master—brace yourself.”
Mariada’s voice cut through the pressure. Her senses caught it first—the air changing, the mana shifting like a predator inhaling.
She moved instantly.
Without a full incantation, she raised a double-layered barrier around herself and me, the space snapping shut like glass forming in midair.
Asahi followed, forming a single golden barrier around himself and Urizee. Rita… was left guard outside.
Only Reina stood without a barrier, perfectly still—because she didn’t need one to survive.
Everyone tightened.
“Stay behind me, okay, Urizee,” Asahi said softly.
The Superior Spirit lifted her right hand to face level and curled her fingers as if preparing to snap.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
We had raised our defenses faster than her fingers could close—but she snapped anyway.
The sound lingered for a heartbeat.
And then—
A wet thud broke the silence. A groan followed, raw and sudden, and the sickening crack of something inside a body giving way.
“H—Huh…?”
Asahi’s breath hitched.
Warmth bloomed across his chest too fast to be normal.
He turned his head slowly, like he didn’t want to believe what his body was already screaming.
And I saw it. Urizee’s delicate hands were buried in him.
No weapon. No blade. Just fingers—pushed through cloth and flesh as if his body were soft earth.
Blood ran down her wrists, bright against her pale skin.
“…U… Urizee…?” Asahi whispered, voice breaking.
He couldn’t understand it. The girl he had begun to hope for—the one he’d promised to protect, the one he’d shielded with his own barrier—was the one tearing him open.
My mind went blank for half a second. Then reality hit like a wave.
What the hell—?!
“ASAHI!” I shouted.
I tried to surge forward—But Mariada’s arm snapped out and caught me hard.
“Don’t!” she barked. “Something is wrong. My senses are screaming.”
I froze, breath shaking.
“And look at her eyes,” Mariada said, voice low.
I did.
Urizee’s eyes were empty. Not scared. Not angry. Hollow—like glass reflecting nothing.
No humanity. No hesitation.
And then…
Urizee smiled.
For the first time since we met, she smiled. And it wasn’t beautiful.
It was wrong. Twisted. Like a puppet—like something else was pulling the strings behind her face.
“Urizee…” Asahi’s voice cracked.
Blood bubbled at his lips as his knees buckled—but her grip tightened, fingers digging deeper.
Rita reacted instantly, slamming into the barrier—and rebounding. Gold light sparked, but the wall held.
Asahi’s barrier wasn’t letting her in.
Whether by design… or because something had tampered with it, shutting out even the spirit meant to save him.
Rita struck it again and again, frantic—unable to reach him, unable to heal him.
Crunch.
Something inside Asahi broke under Urizee’s hand.
“STOP!” I roared.
My body tried to move anyway—But the Superior Spirit’s voice slid through the chaos like silk dipped in poison.
“You see that…?”
Her tone was calm. Flat. Almost bored. Like suffering was a small demonstration she’d prepared ahead of time.
“I had my eye on the one with blue hair,” she continued, gaze drifting briefly toward Reina, “but this is even better.”
Her eyes returned to me.
“Tell me, Krai… how does it feel to know this is your fault?”
My jaw clenched so hard it ached.
I felt my aura surge—crimson pressure cracking the earth beneath my feet like it couldn’t hold me steady.
I stared at Urizee. At the empty eyes. At the smile.
“Urizee,” I said. My voice shaking with fury, I was trying not to let explode. “Let him go.”
Urizee tilted her head slowly, smile widening as blood dripped from her arm.
“…No,” she said casually.
And with that one word, she twisted her hand inside Asahi’s chest.
GHHH—!
Asahi’s agonized scream tore through the flower field, ripping the silence apart as petals scattered in the air like shattered glass.
いつも読んでくれて、ありがとうございます。
クライ・レトスの物語をここまで追ってくれて、本当にうれしいです。
ここまで楽しんでもらえていたら、最高です。
今回で、いったん区切りになります。
でも、パート2はまだ終わりではありません。
これから先の話を書くために、少しだけ休みます。
休みは、たぶん2週間くらいです。
心配しないでください。
次の戦いの場面を、もっとおもしろくするための時間です。
次の戦いは、これまでで一番わくわくするものにしたいです。
だから、書いて、読み直して、直して、また書いて……
しっかり作っていきます。
ぼくも楽しめて、みなさんにも楽しんでもらえるようにがんばります。
読んでくれて、ありがとう。
また次の話で会いましょう。
