Chapter 127. The Flower Bloomed

Enoch muttered cynically.

“Damn cockroach.”

He knew from experience that Navaroa Castile was hard to kill. But still, no matter how many times he experienced it, it was disgusting. That grotesque ability to resurrect without facing a normal death.

“The limit for spatial control is 30 seconds. About 20 seconds left?”

Enoch fired his gun relentlessly. Until that bothersome barrier broke as the spatial control reached its limit.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

In the midst of the fierce barrage of gunfire, Navaroa staggered to his feet. His eyes had already changed, looking like a different person.

“First personality, you idiot. I knew this would happen. Why are you so obsessed with that woman? Foolish bastard…”

His tone had changed, making him seem like a completely different person. This ‘second personality’ swiftly closed in on Enoch and grabbed the barrel of his gun.

Bang!

Enoch aimed and fired, but the bullet was again blocked by the barrier and fell uselessly. Realizing he was out of bullets, Enoch dropped the gun and kicked Navaroa. Of course, his kick was also blocked by the invisible barrier.

15 seconds left.

Navaroa picked up the empty gun and swung it like a club, which Enoch easily dodged, quickly drawing a knife. The knife, too, was hindered by the spatial control.

13 seconds left.

At Navaroa’s gesture, the bullets scattered on the ground floated into the air and shot fiercely towards Enoch. Relying on his instincts, Enoch dodged all the attacks and closed the distance to Navaroa again.

10 seconds left.

Enoch aimed a long slash at Navaroa’s neck with his knife, but it only cut through empty air. Annoyed, deep wrinkles formed on Enoch’s brow. The two men continued their attack and evade, closing and widening the distance repeatedly. 5, 4, 3, 2…

1 second.

The time limit for maintaining spatial control ended. Navaroa hurriedly withdrew the magic that had reached its limit. As he barely dodged the knife rushing at him, he muttered to himself.

“This is really a shitty situation… To die out of curiosity… How stupid.”

His tone had changed again, indicating another personality switch. Probably the third personality, the one with regenerative magic, the most troublesome one. Enoch sheathed his knife and drew his pistol.

At his signal, the Gunner Corps waiting nearby fired at Navaroa.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Navaroa, riddled with bullets, staggered and collapsed. He was bleeding profusely from the bullet holes, looking like he could die any moment, but his wounds healed and the bleeding stopped in the blink of an eye. His persistent healing magic brought him back to life.

The Gunner Corps frowned at the grotesque sight. Could that monster ever truly die?

“Haha… That tickles. I just need to hold out until I can use spatial leap again, right?”

“Shut up and focus, third personality.”

His self-dialogue in different voices was eerily bizarre. Navaroa Castile could truly be considered a monster. The ultimate weapon born from Atreos’s magic implantation experiments, but a failure burdened with the worst side effect of multiple personalities.

Enoch remembered something Navaroa had once mentioned in passing. Navaroa Castile had assessed himself as a failure. A terrible failure with five split personalities, yet still ascended to the throne.

Because he was the ‘least defective’ failure.

“Come on, shoot more. You said you’d kill me until I die, right?”

The third personality taunted fearlessly. Enoch, reloading his pistol, approached Navaroa and lowered the gun. This time, aiming at the heart.

“Of course.”

He slowly applied pressure to the trigger with his index finger.

“I do what I say.”

Bang!

The bullet pierced the heart precisely. Next was the head.

After shattering the skull and brain, it was back to the heart.

Dozens of times.

The sound of reloading and gunshots echoed repeatedly, as if the process would go on indefinitely. Navaroa’s head exploded and his heart was shattered more than twenty times. An unbelievable amount of blood soaked the ground. His body was now completely red, as if he had swum through a crimson sunset.

“Brother…”

Pyrene Castile sobbed. With her magic exhausted, she could do nothing but sit helplessly.

In the cold silence stirred by the autumn wind, a few more gunshots rang out. Navaroa, who had been twitching, no longer moved. Despite his head and heart being brutally destroyed and regenerated multiple times, he lay motionless, as if all his strength had been drained.

“Brother!”

At the desperate cry of Pyrene, Navaroa, who had been lying like a corpse, suddenly opened his eyes.

He summoned his last remaining strength to use magic. Spatial leap. Finally freed from its restriction, he used the magic to move instantly through the distant sky to Pyrene’s location.

Back to her.

Navaroa, who had leaped to where Pyrene was, embraced her and leaped into the air again. This time, as far away as possible, beyond the borders of Ceres, where Bayern’s mad dogs couldn’t follow.

“Brother, sob… Sob!”

Holding the sobbing Pyrene tightly, Navaroa continued to leap. Until he reached his limit.

When they finally arrived at a plain, failing to leap properly, he fell from the sky and rolled on the ground. Fortunately, Pyrene was unharmed as he had held her tightly.

“Brother… Brother! No… Wake up!”

Pyrene’s voice echoed like a wail.

Navaroa lay helplessly on the grass, his eyes closed.

The faint scent of grass. The breeze pleasantly tickling his cheeks. His whole body felt as heavy as water-soaked cotton. He couldn’t move a single finger.

Navaroa sensed his end. It seemed Enoch Bayern had succeeded in killing him until he died…

With a faint smile, he released the ‘fifth personality’ he had suppressed all this time.

This is my last gift to you, Pyrene.

My poor sister.

“…Sorry…”

His last words, whispered in a voice as thin as a thread, were scattered by the wind.

Darkness enveloped him.

Death was approaching, and the final magic created a field full of meaningless illusionary flowers.

Empty and beautiful, yet utterly useless for becoming a king.

But you liked it.

“Brother! No, no, don’t die! Please…!”

The last sound he heard was Pyrene’s desperate cry… it was too sad.

* * *

“How far has the search progressed?”

“Near the border of Ceres, Your Highness. It seems Navaroa and Pyrene Castile have taken refuge in Ceres.”

After safely bringing Ellen back to Evitern Castle, torrential rain began to pour as if it had been waiting for them. Despite the previously clear weather, the sky was now filled with dark clouds, making it gloomy and dreary.

Enoch was about to issue orders to the commander of the pursuit team continuing the search in the rain.

“Your Grace, urgent news.”

One of the informants approached with hurried steps, holding a letter in both hands. Enoch recognized the seal on the envelope. It was from the spy in Ceres who had been in contact with him for a long time.

As soon as he opened the letter, Enoch’s eyes narrowed, and his golden eyes quickly scanned the contents. Gradually, a cold smile appeared on his lips. When he finally looked up, his face was filled with a cruel satisfaction.

“Your Highness, what does it say? Is it serious…?”

“He’s dead.”

“Pardon?”

“Navaroa Castile is dead. His body and Pyrene Castile are being protected by the royal family of Ceres… Finally.”

Enoch laughed lightly.

It had been a grueling fight.

He had clashed with that madman with multiple personalities on the battlefield dozens of times.

A fight that seemed endless had finally come to an end.

“Navaroa Castile… This is a great victory for us.”

The informant’s voice was filled with undisguised excitement. It was understandable.

Just as Enoch had killed hundreds of Atreos’s magic soldiers, Navaroa had killed hundreds, no, thousands of Freuden’s soldiers. Like pouring water on an anthill and wiping them out.

Among those killed were this informant’s sister, a knight’s brother, someone’s father, son, mother, daughter, friend, fiancé, spouse… So many lives were sacrificed in the war with Atreos.

If ending one life could stop such a war…

Even if Enoch could go back in time, he would willingly stain his hands with blood.

“Pyrene Castile is inherently weak-minded, not bold enough to seek revenge.”

As he took out a gas lighter and burned the letter from the spy in Ceres, he spoke.

“None of the remaining Castiles are sane. They all went mad from the magic implantation experiments.”

Thick smoke rose as the paper, white as snow, burned black.

“The Castile dynasty is finished. The nobles of Atreos will fight among themselves for the throne of the dying king.”

“Then…”

“Atreos will be too busy stabilizing its domestic situation to look outward. For at least ten years, they won’t dare invade other countries. Meanwhile, Freuden and its allies must strengthen their military.”

“Indeed…!”

The informant looked at Enoch with admiration and respect. Enoch gave him a rare smile and then called for Fernand.

“Tell Henry I have something urgent to discuss. And, we can celebrate today.”

“Do you mean to hold a banquet?”

“Yes. Gather the guests and inform them. The worst enemy that plagued Freuden has finally died today.”

* * *

The first thing she felt as she regained consciousness was a mild headache.

‘…My head hurts.’

Ellen had a habit of tapping her head with her fist when she had a headache. This time, too, she was about to tap her head when someone grabbed her wrist.

Why are they stopping me? Ellen frowned and squinted her eyes open. The man’s face came into view. Golden eyes looked down at her with a mixture of surprise and exasperation.

“Why are you hurting yourself as soon as you wake up? Did you have a nightmare?”

Ellen blinked blankly. Still groggy, she mumbled.

“…My head hurts.”

“Your head hurts? So you hit your head?”

“Yeah…”

…But I don’t need to hit it anymore.

Seeing you safe puts my mind at ease. The headache is gone.

Ellen smiled bashfully and snuggled into his broad chest, like a kitten seeking warmth. He laughed pleasantly and hugged her in return.