A blast of scorching wind and impact struck his skin. Walm reflexively curled his body, shielding his vital points. Through the narrow gaps between his crossed arms, the scene before him had utterly transformed. The scattered remains of those blown apart had turned into tides of blood that covered the Great Hall.

Walm could not grasp the reality of it. The attendees who, only moments ago, had fervently believed in Bergana’s glory now lay collapsed upon the floor, groaning. The path of light that had shone through the stained-glass windows was now painted over with dark, congealed entrails.

“An… explosion…? What… what just happened?”

He forced his chaotic thoughts into motion. By sheer coincidence, the people before and behind him had formed perfect shields; Walm’s body was uninjured. In contrast, a guest who had taken the blast head-on now slumped limply against him.

“Hey, stay with me!”

Walm called out to the man sagging against him, but there was no reply. His ornate clothing was stained and fused indistinctly with his skin. Even so, it was not an instant death. To assess his condition, Walm grabbed his shoulders and turned him onto his back, and noticed something wrong.

“Ugh… ah… aaah…”

His face was congested with blood, vomiting as violent convulsions wracked his body. Even Walm, accustomed to seeing the wounded and burned, had never witnessed such symptoms. On closer inspection, white foreign objects were embedded in his skin among fragments of metal.

This was no mere explosion.

The device that must have been planted within a person, beginning with the Guild’s Deputy Branch Manager, had been packed with metal fragments and a deadly poison to increase its lethality.

The man Walm held arched his back in a final spasm and stopped breathing. There was nothing more that could be done. Gently laying the corpse down, Walm swept his gaze around to gather information. As his vision cleared, the full extent of the damage became apparent. Fully half of the attendees and guards had collapsed on the floor.

“Call for a healing mage!! The Marquis has been wounded!!”

“It’s no use, he’s not breathing… damn it, what is this poison? Where is the Guild’s Branch Manager?!”

“He was caught in the Deputy Branch Manager’s explosion… killed instantly.”

The bright applause and music had vanished. The Great Hall was now ruled by shouts and groans. Attendants and soldiers frantically attempted to save the wounded, but with little effect. Soldiers ran about the chamber, guests cried out for help, and guild staff with pale faces fled toward the exits.

Amid the chaos, Walm’s eyes caught someone.

No… he had caught sight of her.

His throat went dry, and time seemed to stop as he forgot to breathe. Gasping for air, Walm stumbled across the blood-slick floor and ran through the hall. His heart pounded violently. The more he told himself it couldn’t be so, the more ragged his breathing became. Reaching the wall, Walm dropped to both knees as though in confession and called out.

“L-Lizzy… hey, Lizzy!!”

“Ah… ugh…”

Carefully lifting her collapsed body, Walm’s vision swam.

Fist-sized metal fragments were embedded in Lizzy’s throat and chest, and copious blood frothed from her lips. Her eyes would not focus. Her eyelids drooped as though she could no longer fight the pull of sleep. Instead of responding to Walm’s voice, Lizzy faintly shook the bracelet on her wrist and moved her fingers. Walm clasped her hand in both of his… it was as cold as a corpse.

“Is there a healing mage?! Someone? Anyone!”

With nearly a hundred people writhing in agony from poison, there was no one besides Walm who would prioritize saving a mere guild receptionist like Lizzy.

Removing the metal fragments coated in toxin should have been the first step. But Walm’s experience as a soldier rang alarm bells in his mind. If he pulled them out of Lizzy, who could not deploy a magic barrier, the fragile balance would collapse, and she would surely bleed to death. Even cauterizing the wounds was impossible, as burning her throat and chest would destroy her vital points.

“Don’t fall asleep! Stay conscious!!”

Don’t lament. Don’t rage. Think of a solution.

Walm desperately restrained his thoughts from being dragged astray by emotion. Even if he removed the fragments, she would bleed out. Worse, there was no means to eliminate the poison. The healing mages were overwhelmed, and even the few available could not counter such a deadly toxin.

At the edge of his thoughts, it surfaced.

The Three Sacred Treasures of Healing. The Deep Crimson Bloom that could cure all ailments and even extend one’s lifespan. Walm had risked his life at the bottom of the labyrinth to obtain it.

His benefactor was dying in front of him, needing it.

A vile, calculating thought raised its head, but Walm bit through his lip and crushed it down. Even if he pretended not to see, blaming his blurred vision, a new curse called regret would only be added to his soul.

“I’ll save you.”

He grabbed the bottle from his Magic Bag and tore out the cork. The unchanging flower remained exactly as it had at the bottom of the labyrinth.

As Walm considered how to administer it, a voice froze him in place.

Even at the labyrinth’s depths, she had remained composed, but now Yuna’s voice trembled without calm.

Walm stiffly turned his heavy neck.

There stood his familiar party, save for one difference. Only Merrill, their leader, had collapsed on the floor. Struck by poisoned fragments, her body trembled irregularly. Around her were the mangled corpses of the labyrinth city’s dignitaries. Whether due to the location of the direct hit or differences in magic barriers and resistance, Merrill alone had avoided instant death.

“Merrill, hang in there!!”

“Yuna, stuff cloth in her mouth, she’ll bite her tongue! I’m enhancing her with support magic, so why won’t the detox work?!”

“Ghh… this is Hydra’s Poison!! A deadly toxin that felled even the descendants of the giants of the Republic! At this dosage, an ordinary person would have died five times over!”

Which would he choose to save?

The reason forged into him as a soldier placed them both upon a scale.

His comrade-in-arms who had shared hardship in the labyrinth… Merrill.

Or his benefactor who had supported him and shown him the way… Lizzy.

“Ah… AaaAaAahHh!!”

His vision swayed with dizziness. Sour bile rose in his throat as he fought back a sob.

What should he do? What was the right answer?

Walm’s emotions were on the verge of rupture. In contrast, his soldier’s reason coldly acknowledged the facts. The wounds in Lizzy’s arms were too deep. Would the Deep Crimson Bloom even save her? Reason sounded its warning and emotion denied it.

Which should he save?

Before the two suspended upon the scales, time passed mercilessly without an answer. The screams in the Great Hall dwindled, one by one.

The moment of decision was upon him yet Walm could not choose.

In his arms, Lizzy’s mouth moved faintly.

“What is it? What are you trying to say?”

Though her lips moved, no sound came. Walm strained to read her intent but failed. Her arm, which had been rigid and trembling, fell to the floor. The silver bracelet struck stone with a sharp metallic ring that echoed endlessly in his ears.

“H-Hey, Lizzy? Lizzy!?”

He knew.

It was meaningless. It produced nothing.

Even so, Walm kept calling out.

“No… this isn’t… how it was supposed to…”

Lizzy would never answer again. Life had slipped from her cold body.

Walm had placed two people upon the scales and could not choose.

Did not choose.

The result was that he let Lizzy die.

The process did not matter. The result spoke for itself.

“…I… I’m sorry.”

He could never be forgiven. He had not chosen her. Even so, he could not stop the apology from spilling out through choking sobs.

With trembling fingers, he closed her eyelids and laid what had once been Lizzy on the floor. Then he crawled forward.

His warped vision reflected tragedy upon tragedy. He forced shallow breaths, suppressing his fading consciousness.

He could not collapse.

Walm had chosen.

“Walm!? Merrill!!”

Hari, who had been focused on treatment, looked up in shock as Walm staggered in.

“At this rate… she’ll die, right?”

It was blunt. Brutal.

But seeing his expression and the weight of what he held, none could rebuke him.

“Walm… that’s for your eyes!”

“I know. Without this, she won’t survive. Right? It’s just eyes.”

“Are you… certain?”

At Hari’s insistence, Walm turned bloodshot, clouded eyes toward him.

“…There’s no going back. Merrill, can you hear me? Swallow the Deep Crimson Bloom.”

He pried open her clenched mouth and forced the flower inside but Merrill only coughed, unable to swallow.

“She doesn’t even have the strength to swallow…”

Mariante fell silent in horror.

Walm no longer lamented.

He pulled out rum from his Magic Bag and drained it in one gulp, then stuffed the Deep Crimson Bloom into his own mouth. Ignoring his stunned companions, he chewed.

The rusty bitterness of the flower mixed with the sweet flavor of rum.

Wrapping one arm around Merrill’s neck and supporting her jaw with his hand, he pressed his lips to hers and poured the liquefied bloom into her mouth. Though she coughed and tried to expel it, he held her close, preventing any escape.

Her throat moved.

She swallowed.

The effect was immediate.

Her convulsing body slowly calmed. Her drowning breaths steadied.

Walm collapsed onto the floor, drained. The aftertaste was bitter.

An indescribable emotion churned within him.

Someone grabbed his shoulder.

He looked up blankly to see Lavinia who had stood beside Lizzy at the reception desk, her face twisted as she screamed.

“Why didn’t you save her?! Why did you abandon her?! If you had the Deep Crimson Bloom, Lizzy could have… she liked you! Why? Why?!”

She was right.

Walm listened in silence. Lavinia, who had been close to Lizzy, could never accept his choice.

“In this situation, none can remain calm. Even so, you, watch your wor—”

“Hari, stop. I couldn’t choose. I didn’t choose. I killed her. She’s not wrong.”

Hari, face flushed with anger, was cut off by Walm. Lavinia lowered her head and pounded the floor.

“It’s not your fault! You even sacrificed your eyes to—”

Mariante tried to continue, but a soldier rushing into the Great Hall interrupted her.

“1000-man commander Edoardo! A report from the communication device! At labyrinth-related facilities, troop barracks, and the main castle, similar necromantic human bombs have detonated! Casualties are severe! Furthermore, numerous undead and unidentified armed forces have been confirmed within the old castle, the city, and inside the walls including the gates!”

“How many?!”

“Unknown, but the undead alone number in the thousands. Much of their equipment dates back to the Unification War!”

The officer called Edoardo ground his teeth.

“This method… it’s from the Unification War. Have the dead really crawled out of their graves?!”

“T-The Marquis and his heir are dead. Guild executives and command staff as well… what should we do?”

Edoardo roared.

“Do not panic!! Gather every soldier and Adventurer nearby who can still move! Ignore affiliation and unit! We don’t even know how many senior officers remain alive. First, assemble whoever we can command and eliminate the threat!!”

The soldiers scattered. There were no more lives left to save here.

Walm exhaled softly.

Edoardo’s voice carried well, a model of one who could move men. Ironically, it was the rallying cry of a foreign commander that pulled Walm’s mind back to reality.

What must be prioritized was the elimination of those who had brought about this lowest, vilest, most nauseating catastrophe.

From the bottom of his heart, Walm agreed.

“…Take care of Merrill. I have something to do.”

“What are you saying?”

“Where are you going!? Walm!!”

He ignored his companions’ calls.

Passing frenzied guild staff and guests, he moved down the corridor.

The expression on his face was not one he could show honest Adventurers.

Fortunately, he had a lead.

Amid the confusion and grief, one man had stood out, his face pale with pure fear.

The man had served as Raffaele’s guard.

When Walm had been confined within the Guild, that man had always been at the Deputy Branch Manager’s side.

His master had just exploded, and yet he showed no confusion, no grief. Only fear.

The answer was obvious. Walm was certain the man knew the culprit.

“Ah… good. If that’s how it is… I’m good at killing. And at war.”

For the sake of the community he belonged to. For self-defense.

He had killed countless men under those justifications.

“I won’t blame anyone. I won’t make excuses. I will kill them by my own will. Every last one.”

With this promise, Walm put on the demon mask.

The emotions that had been in chaos were now dyed into one color.

The mask trembled, approving its owner’s killing intent.

Walm spoke as if to calm it.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t get so excited. I can’t hold back either.”

————————–
Author’s note: In the language of flowers Deep Crimson Bloom represents the scales, the cost, and sacrifice.

Translator – Lyxxna