READ NOVEL ONLINE Chapter 117
The field of vision opened up, and Charlotte was thrown back to that moment from ten years ago.
A hallucination blurring the line with reality. She instinctively realized it was the Hermit’s trauma reproduction.
Memories overlapped just before losing consciousness.
In reality, she had lost her mind during the fight with Cecilia.
It wasn’t the situation but the words she had hurled that kept echoing in her mind.
“The Magic Overrun from ten years ago, wasn’t that your doing?”
She knew all too well what those words entailed.
Despite repeatedly denying it wasn’t her, deep down, she sensed the truth.
“Ah…”
In Charlotte’s retinas, her past self from ten years ago appeared.
Caught in the Magic Overrun, her identity was lost.
A shockwave accompanied by a deafening noise surged, shrouded by thick smoke.
Only Lucas stood before the young Charlotte.
Crimson blood streamed from his neck. Just the sight made Charlotte’s fingers go numb.
“It’s all just a hallucination, don’t panic. Accepting this illusion will only drag you in further,” she kept reminding herself, though her heart trembled like a candle flickering in the wind.
The Magic Overrun loomed like a catastrophe, too daunting to approach.
Had it been left unchecked, the Charlotte of today wouldn’t exist in that spot.
There were many suspicious aspects regarding Lucas’s execution.
As if piecing together a puzzle, only Charlotte’s Magic Overrun fell into place.
“No…”
Without a trace of hesitation, Lucas stepped forward.
Charlotte reached out to him in a daze.
“Don’t go. Please, just let me die.”
She screamed for him to see her, to hear her.
Perhaps lost in the roaring sound, Lucas only had eyes for young Charlotte.
Eventually, he threw himself into the inferno.
His entire body was being consumed by relentless flames. The deafening roar struck against her eardrums, bringing a ringing in her ears.
Lucas didn’t even scream.
Resisting with divine power, he elegantly avoided Charlotte.
Fearing she might get hurt, he battled only against the raging magic.
Thus, he accepted all her wounds for himself.
“…Why?”
Charlotte couldn’t even begin to fathom the boundlessly noble heart that surpassed selflessness.
Why would he save a witch cast out by the world?
A child with no ties to him.
Why would he risk his life for someone who once sought to kill him?
Knowing he might die.
In the end, he had perished because of her.
In death, he couldn’t even close his eyes in peace.
The magic, which had quieted down, eventually faded away.
Lucas cautiously cradled young Charlotte in his arms.
His body was battered and bruised. Numerous wounds marked his charred form, and his eyes remained closed.
In contrast, young Charlotte seemed at peace, her eyes gently shut without a single visible wound.
“Is anyone… is anyone there?”
Lucas spoke as he glanced around.
After a long moment of searching with his blind gaze, Selina made a sound.
“I-I’m here.”
“Are you a witch?”
“Yes, I’m the child’s aunt. But hero, your eyes….”
At that moment, countless footsteps surged forth.
The sound of iron clashing revealed the presence of knights.
Lucas hurriedly passed Charlotte to Selina.
“Please, leave the rest to me and keep this child safe.”
“Why are you going this far…?”
Selina voiced Charlotte’s confusion.
Why to this extent? She wanted to hear an answer, but that was impossible.
The footsteps halted, and the knights appeared before them.
Lucas aimed his sword at them, still clutching his weapon despite his deteriorating condition and blindness.
Though it was likely a brief struggle, Lucas lifted his sword for that fleeting moment.
“Go. Hurry.”
*
In an instant, Charlotte’s vision went dark.
When her sight returned, she found herself standing in a new location.
Cecilia was huddled, while her past self looked down indifferently.
The trauma from her memories echoed in succession.
Charlotte recognized this moment at a glance.
“It’s your fault. It’s because of you, witches, that the Master died.”
“Do you even have the right to say that? Who was it that tried to kill the Boss?”
The one who sought to kill him.
“You attempted to kill the Boss. You were very close to doing so.”
“…”
“Then what nerve do you have to hold on to lingering feelings? The Boss hopes for your departure. When he shows mercy, leave the dungeon.”
The words spoken in the past pierced Charlotte’s heart like a dagger.
“What nerve did I have to stay beside him?”
The flood of emotions erupted from her lips. Her entire body shivered as her voice trembled with anxiety.
Once again, her vision went dark and the scene shifted.
Before a campfire, a man and woman sat on tree stumps.
The Boss, Barugore, and Charlotte herself.
“Do you pity the witch persecuted by the world?”
“Yes.”
“When I first came to the dungeon, you saw me with pity then too, didn’t you?”
Did he feel sorry for the pathetic child who lost her mother? Did he feel sorry for the witch persecuted by the world?
“The Boss saved witches even while alive.”
“…”
“I’ve heard it was ten years ago. If that was the case, perhaps I also received salvation from the Boss.”
What was I even saying?
Was I really suggesting that my life was saved simply out of pity?
I couldn’t even comprehend the feelings held within my heart.
Charlotte floundered in confusion as if submerged underwater.
“If you saved me then, I would always be indebted to the Boss.”
“Is that so.”
“That’s how I’d like it. Of course, I feel ashamed to be indebted to the Boss, but if you spared me back then out of pity… I think the joy would be greater.”
Joy? What right did I have?
Who was it that killed him?
“Do you remember when I saved the Boss? When that hero tried to kill him—ah. Of course, I’m not trying to take any credit for it. I just hoped you’d acknowledge it…”
“I know. I’m grateful for it.”
“…Thank you.”
A faint smile appeared on her face.
I saved the Boss. If not for me, the Boss wouldn’t be here.
Who saved whom?
If she hadn’t existed, he wouldn’t be here.
He wouldn’t have died. He would have been breathing, feeling emotions, and living somewhere.
The vision turned black, and the scene changed abruptly.
In her newly opened field of view, a man and woman walked through the darkness.
“The Boss seems unfazed by his own death.”
She thought he was indifferent to death due to being Undead.
What a foolish misconception.
“There’s no sensation? I too fear death.”
If he had been terrified of death while alive, that fear clung to him as an instinct of the Undead.
The fear of death was bothersome to him more than death itself. That’s why he feared death even after dying.
“Do you remember your death?”
“I don’t know.”
Had he known…
“Do you recall being afraid of death while alive?”
“Every human fears death. Am I any different?”
If he knew all this, how would he see her?
“I still despise humanity.”
She believed he had been killed by their hands.
Having annihilated his clan, she wished to kill all humans who had murdered the Boss.
Yet the direction of her wrath was misguided.
Though humanity killed the Boss, it was they who had made him that way.
*
The vision extinguished, and everything vanished like a mirage.
In the plaza, countless people packed tight, their gazes directed upward.
Over the head of a bound man, a guillotine loomed.
Trauma she had no recollection of.
An illusion born of guilt, yet Charlotte’s pupils trembled uncontrollably despite knowing this.
“Is the witch’s skirt that appealing?!”
“Kill him! Cut off his head!”
“Kill the traitor! Let Lucas go to hell!”
The crowd erupted in excitement. They fervently shouted for execution.
Lucas’s blind gaze could capture nothing.
Surely that was the case, yet his gaze locked onto Charlotte.
In his pale eyes, endless hatred and resentment brewed.
“I saved you for nothing—”
Skrack!
Lucas’s head tumbled to the ground.
Slowly, oh so slowly, his head rolled to Charlotte’s feet.
From the bound neck came a wailing turmoil, indistinguishable between sobbing and screaming.
Flashes of scattered memories swept through her mind.
His face, his actions, his devotion. In the end, an overwhelming fear seized her.
The feelings she had for him felt tender, fresh, like a confession she longed to express.
But it wasn’t. It felt painful and shattered, a feeling she could never confess.
Tap. Tap.
A single tear flowed down and pooled at her chin.
If he knew everything, he would surely blame and hate her endlessly.
The situation, the atmosphere, the air, the reactions, the breaths—everything that came to mind filled her with dread.
Crack—
The skin of the severed head at her feet deteriorated, shrinking away. The cold breeze fluttered the decayed flesh.
A blue light emanated from the skull, gaining clarity.
It gazed at Charlotte through Barugore’s eyes.
“I wasn’t saving you.”
***
Reality gradually returned, and her vision cleared.
In shock, Charlotte propitiously raised her upper body. Suddenly, an excruciating headache caused her brows to furrow.
The ground was stained with charred marks, rising smoke and mirages wafting upwards.
Eventually, as the smoke cleared, a silhouette emerged.
Charlotte’s eyes widened in alarm, trembling uncontrollably.
Barugore lay on the ground, scorched. Glimmers of embers lingered on his wounded body, remnants of magic remained.
It was unmistakably Charlotte’s own magic.
The Magic Overrun from ten years ago overlapped with her perception.
Barugore’s eyes dimmed, reminiscent enough to lead her back to that time.
“No…”
Before she could even comprehend, her feet moved toward him.
“This must be fake… it’s all fake…”
She deceived herself, insisting it had to be an illusion born from her trauma.
Trembling fingertips reached out to Barugore.
She hoped that by piercing through, it would feel like nothing.
Tap.
Charlotte’s fingertips met with him.
A vivid sensation coursed through her.
*
“Don’t touch him!”
Hermit shouted loudly.
Charlotte, appearing impervious, didn’t budge.
As the decision was made, Hermit rushed over and pushed Charlotte away.
The impact sent her crashing down without resistance.
“Stay away! Move back!”
“Is this… Reality…?”
“What if you go berserk again?! Get back! Quick!”
The Boss’s sacrifice had stopped the Magic Overrun, but it wasn’t entirely resolved.
Unattended magic could erupt into chaos once more.
Though she wished to put distance between them, there was no room to breathe.
Hermit stepped back, anxiously checking the Boss’s eyes.
The Undead’s awakening could be confirmed through his gaze.
“Ah…”
The dimming light in his eyes signified he was nearing death.
“W-What do I do…? What can I do…?”
Panic-stricken, flailing limbs came up with no viable solution.
Her thoughts were spiraling into chaos.
While the Boss was dying, she couldn’t think of a way to revive the Undead.
Suddenly, her gaze lingered on her own hands.
The sphere of distraction Hermit held was a backup life prepared by the nine-tailed fox.
It could revive living beings aside from herself.
But it was only applicable to living organisms. It wouldn’t work for a soul that had already passed.
“Ugh… Even this…!”
In such a critical moment, nothing else came to mind.
Shaking off her hesitation, Hermit pressed the sphere against the Boss’s chest.
“…Huh?”
With no feeling of resistance, the sphere slipped inside.
At that moment, a white light erupted from the Boss’s chest.
Hermit was taken aback, unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Why is this working…?”