The silence that followed the fall of the crystal chandelier felt so heavy and deafening.
Charles coughed violently, fine ice dust filling his lungs, feeling like he had just swallowed a handful of frozen sand. He was still lying amid the shards of wood from the destroyed bar, his body screaming in pain.
The dull throb in his empty left shoulder now competed with the sharp aches all over his body.
For a moment, he allowed himself to hope. Maybe it's over.
But at that moment, he heard it.
Not an explosion. Not a roar. But a slow and methodical KRI... KRI... KRAK... sound. The sound of ice reshaping itself.
Charles lifted his head with difficulty. His sharp eyes behind the cracked fox mask widened in horror.
The pile of ice debris and crystal shards in the middle of the room, which should have been the golem's grave, now began to move. The ice crept, merging back like a viscous liquid being cooled, reforming the arms, shoulders, and upper body that had been destroyed.
The regeneration process was so fast and unnatural, as if an invisible hand was sculpting it back to wholeness.
And in the center of the newly formed golem's chest, something new had appeared.
It was no longer the pale blue Cryo core he had seen before.
There, where its heart should be, now pulsed a dense blood-red core. Its malevolent light emitted strange waves of heat in the frozen room, a contradiction that made Charles's stomach churn.
The golem rose, now taller than before, the cracks in its ice body now filled with sharp, jagged red crystal veins.
The golem turned, its now red-glowing eyes locked straight on Charles. It roared. Its voice was no longer like a breaking glacier, but like the screams of thousands of tormented souls, a cry full of rage that pierced the bones.
No... this can't be, Charles thought, his strategic mind racing in panic. Regeneration? And that core... the color... this isn't the same as the golems I've fought before. Was this golem created differently?
At that moment, the golem raised its fist, now coated in sharp red crystals, and smashed it into the floor.
BOOM!
The marble floor beneath shattered into pieces.
Charles had no time to think. He rolled to the side, avoiding the rain of marble shards. He had to move. He had to find a new strategy.
With one trembling hand, he drew his modified revolver, the weapon now infused with the power of The Jester's Rattle.
This thing... this thing has no mind, he thought, his eyes never leaving the golem now walking toward him. How can I make it despair if it doesn't even have a soul?
The golem raised its fist again, this time aiming directly at where Charles was hiding behind an overturned marble table.
Charles knew he couldn't dodge forever.
He had to test his theory!
As the ice fist came down, Charles rolled out from his hiding spot. He landed awkwardly on a pile of ice glass shards, sharp pain stabbing his knees, but he ignored it.
He raised his revolver, aiming straight at the pulsing red core, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshot sounded so loud and deafening in the ruined room, the sharp gunpowder smoke immediately filling the air.
The bullet shot out, piercing the storm of ice shards surrounding the golem, and embedded right in the center of the red core.
Time seemed to slow.
The golem stopped moving. Its fist, ready to smash, now hung in the air.
It slowly lowered its head, staring at the small bullet hole in its core.
Did it work? Charles thought, his breath held in his throat.
But nothing happened. The mental effect of the bullet—the wave of despair and suicidal urge—had absolutely no effect on a magical construct!
The golem undoubtedly saw the bullet as a minor annoyance, like a mosquito bite!
Slowly, it raised its head again, its red eyes now shining brighter, angrier. The ice around the bullet hole began to creep and close it back.
And worse, the golem's arm, originally made of solid ice, now changed shape. The sharp red crystals that were once just decorations now elongated, covering its entire arm, turning it into a terrifying crystal cannon.
The golem raised its arm, aiming it straight at Charles who was still cornered.
It... it absorbed my explosion? Charles thought, pure horror now gripping him. It's not just immune... it's adapting!
Before Charles could react, the golem fired. Not a fireball or ice. But a barrage of sharp red crystal shards shooting out from its arm like shrapnel bullets.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Charles tried to roll away, but he was too slow. Two sharp crystal shards embedded into his right thigh, another pierced his right arm, making him drop his precious revolver.
"ARRRGGHHHH!!!"
Indescribable pain, far worse than before, exploded all over his body. It felt like being stabbed by burning ice spears. Fresh blood gushed profusely again, soaking his clothes and the floor beneath him. His remaining arm was now useless, pinned to the wall behind him by the crystal shard.
He was truly cornered now.
The golem walked slowly toward him, now without haste. It stopped right in front of Charles, towering like an executioner. It raised its intact fist, ready to deliver the final blow.
Charles stared at death now just inches from his face. He could feel the deadly cold aura from the ice, and the strange heat from the red core. He could smell ozone and crushed stone. Is this... the end? Dying in a frozen cafe... by an ice puppet? After all I've been through? After surviving an Archon? NO!
Pure rage, born from the deepest despair, gave him one last spark of strength.
With a stifled groan, he used his hand pinned to the wall, ignoring the excruciating pain as he moved his torn muscles, to grab the revolver. His hand trembled violently, his warm blood flowing, making the weapon's grip slippery.
As the golem swung its fist down to crush his head, Charles raised the revolver. He had no time to aim. He didn't aim at the golem. He aimed at the only thing that mattered.
The red core.
One shot. Just one. Please. Please work...!
He pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet shot out.
Time seemed to stop. The golem's fist was now just centimeters from his fox mask.
The bullet hit the red core.
No explosion. No blinding light.
Just... silence.
The golem froze mid-swing. The pulsing red light in its core, which had shone so fiercely, now flickered, then dimmed. The red light slowly faded, replaced by a dull, dead gray color.
And without the core giving it life, the golem was now just a large ice statue.
Charles remained in his position, leaning against the wall, his hand holding the revolver still raised, trembling violently. The adrenaline that had flooded his body was gone, replaced by a wave of pain and exhaustion so intense it nearly made him faint.
He stared at the golem now turned ice statue, then at the crystal shards still embedded in his thigh and arm.
Then, he began to laugh.
At first just a hoarse, soft chuckle, but then it turned into hysterical, mad laughter, echoing in the destroyed and frozen cafe. The laughter of a man who had just cheated death once again, but at such a high price that he could hardly be called human anymore.
He tried to stand, but his legs refused to obey. He slumped back down amid the rubble.
Furina... he thought, his consciousness fading amid his mad laughter. It seems... I need a little help from you here...
And with that thought, his eyes finally closed, surrendering to the darkness that had long awaited him.
...
The first thing that returned to Charles was his sense of smell.
No longer the sharp ozone from the Archon's slash. Nor the suffocating ice dust and rusty metal from the destroyed golem. This was something else.
The sharp antiseptic smell, like crushed herbs, mixed with the faint aroma of warm broth soup.
And behind it, a barely detectable scent, like lumidouce bell flowers after rain.
Then, his sense of touch returned.
He was no longer lying on the cold marble floor and crystal shards.
Beneath him, he felt the softness of slightly rough linen sheets, and above him, the warmth of a heavy goose-down blanket. His body was stiff. Every joint felt rusted.
And then, the pain returned—the constant dull throb in his right thigh, the sharp sting all over his body.
And his left shoulder...
His left shoulder felt itchy. A torturous itch that couldn't be scratched, as if thousands of ants were crawling under the bandage wrapping something that no longer existed.
Next, hearing.
No longer the golem's howls or his own roars of rage. Just silence. A deep silence, broken only by a soft rhythmic ticking—tik-tok, tik-tok—from a clockwork machine somewhere on the wall, and the steady, gentle breathing of someone very close to him.
With great effort, Charles forced his eyes open.
The world around him was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow from a few lumitoiles placed in glass jars, creating a calming pale blue light.
He was in a small, simple but tidy room. The walls were made of stone, and across the room, a small mechanical fireplace emitted steady warmth.
His first instinct was to move. His right hand shot to his waist, searching for the familiar grip of his revolver. But what he found was only the softness of clean cotton pajamas.
His eyes widened. Alertness coursed through his stiff body.
He tried to sit up, but a stifled groan of pain escaped his lips as excruciating pain exploded in his left shoulder.
"Nghh..."
The sound made the figure sleeping beside him jolt awake.
Furina's head lifted from her folded arms on the bed's edge. Her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one purple—widened in surprise and sleepiness, her disheveled white-blue hair sticking to her cheek wet with dried tear tracks.
She stared at Charles with a blank gaze for a split second, as if still in a dream.
Then, realization hit her.
"You!" she exclaimed, her voice hoarse from sleep and perhaps tears. "You... you're awake! Thank goodness... thank goodness!"
Charles just stared at her, his foggy brain trying to process the situation. "Where... is this?" he asked, his throat dry and sore, his voice barely audible.
"We're... we're in the shelter. Under the Opera Epiclese," Furina said quickly, her body now trembling with overwhelming relief. She wiped her tears that welled up again.
Safe? This is under that ice palace... how can you say this is safe?
"I... I found you in that cafe. Oh gods, Charles... you... surrounded by the golem's rubble. Blood... so much blood... I thought you were..." She couldn't finish her sentence, the memory of the horrific scene making her shudder in horror.
Charles ignored her emotional outburst. He needed facts. He needed control. He stared at the low stone ceiling. "How long?"
Furina bit her lip, hesitant. "Three days," she answered softly. "You didn't wake up. Your fever was so high. The doctors here said... they said you lost too much blood. They said... we could only hope."
"Three days," Charles repeated, his voice flat. He processed the information. Then he stared at the thick bandage wrapping his left shoulder.
Seeing his gaze, Furina couldn't hold back anymore. The curiosity and horror she had suppressed for the past three days now exploded.
"Charles... what... what happened to you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Your arm... in Inazuma... Who? Who did this to you?"
Charles was silent for a very long time. The silence between them filled only by the ticking of the clockwork machine on the wall. He didn't look at Furina. He looked at his remaining hand, his right hand, now clenched on the rough linen blanket.
"It was the price of a gaze," he finally said, his voice now cold and emotionless, like the ice outside.
"What?" Furina asked, confused.
"I looked at her," Charles continued, his empty eyes now staring straight at the ceiling, as if replaying the event there. "I admired her. And she... the Goddess of Eternity... didn't like being gazed upon by a mortal being."
Well, I'm not entirely lying... how could I dare say I looked at her with lust? Logic. Who would dare.
And then, he told everything. Not with an outpouring of emotion, but with calmness. He told about the hill overlooking Tenshukaku, about his foolish admiration for divine beauty.
He told about the purple lightning that tore reality without warning, about the blinding pain as his arm was severed and turned to ash.
He told about the Magic Wish Machine he used as a last gamble, and about the new hatred that had now rooted in his soul.
As he uttered the name "Raiden Shogun," Furina could see Charles's right hand clench so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and the muscles in his jaw protruded under his pale skin.
His eyes, usually cynical, now burned with a pure and cold fire of hatred.
"She took it from me," he hissed, his voice now trembling not from weakness, but from unbearable rage.
"And I swear by whatever void brought me to this world, I will return. I will take everything from her. Her eternity. Her divinity. Everything."
Furina listened in silence, her body trembling.
She saw that pure hatred, and she recognized it. She saw the pain of such deep betrayal.
"She... an Archon... did that just because you looked at her?" she whispered, horrified.
Charles finally turned, his burning eyes staring straight at Furina.
"Why are you surprised?" he asked, his tone full of sharp cynicism.
"You were an Archon too. Aren't you gods like that? Viewing us humans as ants to be crushed anytime if we dare to stare too long?"
The question hit Furina harder than any golem. Of course, that was just a joke. Besides, Charles had known since they first met that Furina wasn't an Archon. But Furina's pale face turned even whiter, as if all the blood had drained from her body.
Tears that had only welled up now spilled profusely, flowing down her cheeks. She shook her head in panic, her body trembling violently. "No..." she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I... I'm not an Archon. Not anymore."
Charles raised his remaining eyebrow. "Oh?"
She's taking that joke seriously?
"You already know that I... I was never an Archon!"
Her story then poured out. Not as the grand Focalors, not as the confident stage star Furina. But as a frightened and broken girl.
The story spilled from her like a dam finally breaking after 500 years of holding back pressure.
Charles knew the reason, but he had never experienced or heard the story directly from her mouth.
Furina told about the endless charade. About the ancient curse. About unimaginable loneliness, living on stage, under thousands of eyes, yet more alone than anyone in the world.
She told about the mirror that became her only companion, the only place she could be herself.
Charles listened in silence, his shock slowly turning into dark understanding.
The tragedy he had just heard, a suffering lasting five centuries, made his pain from losing an arm feel so... small. So mortal.
After Furina finished, a heavy silence enveloped the room again. Only her stifled sobs could be heard.
Furina slowly lifted her head. She wiped her tears with the back of her calloused hand—a worker's hand, no longer a goddess's.
His gaze now changed. Her fragility that had been so clear earlier now vanished, replaced by something new—a mutual understanding, a cold resolve that mirrored Charles's own gaze.
"Now I know how you feel. How it feels to be thrown into a world that's not yours. I know how it feels to wear a mask every day, playing a role just to survive. I know how it feels to be alone, surrounded by people who will never understand you."
Charles's body, which had begun to relax on the bed, suddenly tensed again. His eyes narrowed. "What... do you mean?"
Furina stared straight at him. "I know about your System."
She extended her trembling hand, palm facing up. A pale blue screen—the System screen identical to Charles's—appeared above her palm, its soft and unnatural light illuminating both their faces in the dim room.
"Now, I... I'm also a Player. Just like you."
Charles froze. His world, which had just begun to stabilize, flipped upside down again.
But soon the shock on his face slowly faded, replaced by his characteristic cynical smile, though this time tinged with deep weariness.
Of course. He should have guessed it from the start. Since she, Furina, killed the Nameless King. The System now belonged to her, who had slain it.
...
A/N: Yep, this series will be ending soon!
Btw, I'm still expecting comments!
If you want to read the 7 advanced chapters with a faster update frequency than the webnovel, you can read it on my patreon whose link is below:
https://www.pâtreon.com/Junxt
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