10.1) Finale I ~ If My Ideals Have To End

When Abigail opened her eyes, she was being carried by Cillian through a dark tunnel. Despite the inhuman texture of his body, she felt very comfortable in his arms. She felt as if she was a child again, and her father was carrying her to bed after arriving back home late at night.

Instinctively, she felt an urge to hug him with both her arms, but she felt that something was wrong. Her left arm had successfully wrapped around him, while the other remained unresponsive.

When she looked toward her right arm, she realized that there was no arm. Her scarf had been wrapped around her armless shoulder, and her belt had been used to act as the tourniquet. The white scarf had turned red.

There was no scream. There was no surprise. She simply stared at where her arm should be, then dimmed her eyes.

Noticing her awakening, Cillian spoke in a low grumble.

“If you had fought to kill, this would not have happened. But I suppose this is the result you were expecting. A death by ideals.”

“... Where’s the boy?” she whispered.

“He was shot,” he said emotionlessly. “He was killed by a stray bullet. That’s all.”

“... What?” she whispered, quietly shocked. But he didn’t answer, as if knowing he had said all that had needed to be said.

“Is that so,” Abigail mumbled.

“... Is that so,” she weakly repeated herself and looked down.

He looked down at her murky face, then sighed. The Man-Devil spoke as softly as a devil could, in an almost paternal tone.

“At the end of everything, I understand who you are. You’re no warrior. You’re no soldier. You're no leader. No, you’re far from such things…”

“... You’re just a girl pretending to be all of those things. A girl blinded by her own fantastical visions of what should be.”

Abigail’s eyes dimmed further, unable to respond to his claims.

“You don’t belong here, with people like me and that butcher. Your destiny belonged somewhere else this entire time. Your people are elsewhere, far, far away from this battlefield.”

He sighed with a hint of pity. “This is why you’ll die alone, Abigail Kovacs. You’ve lived your life in the completely wrong place.”

Then, Cillian pushed open a door that led outside of the underground city. Immediately, she could feel the wind blow on her face. And she squinted, her eyes irritated by the orange sky. It was evening, and the Sun was beginning to set.

Cillian set her down on her feet. Somehow, Abigail still had enough strength to remain standing.

“I leave the rest of your life to you,” he said, turning back around and walking back towards the battlefield.

“... Cillian.”

The Man-Devil turned around. “What is it?”

She grabbed the hilt of her sword with her left hand, then pointed the handle towards him, offering him her sword.

Cillian frowned. “You do not wish to die with your sword?”

She laughed humorlessly. “I don’t have enough arms to properly wield it. I have no more use for the sword.”

Her gaze weakened. “Yes… I have no more use for the sword at all.”

Cillian grabbed the sword and closed his eyes. “I pity you, Abigail Kovacs.”

After a moment of silence, he turned away with the sword firmly in his hand. “If you are reborn, I pray you awaken in a world that is better suited for your naivety.”

Cillian disappeared into the darkness, closing the door behind him. She stared at the door. It felt to her as if the battlefield itself had rejected her presence. She had been kicked out of hell itself.

… What now? Abigail thought, grabbing her right shoulder and turning away from the underground city of Oneiros.

She couldn’t return to her friends; even if she could, she didn’t want to ruin their last days by showing up with a missing arm. She couldn’t fight; even if she could, she was now doubting herself, feeling that her sword had failed to protect anyone.

It seemed that she no longer belonged anywhere in this world.

You’re insane, she could hear Victor say. Perhaps he was right. The people she tried to protect always seemed to die elsewhere anyway. Now she would die alone in the middle of nowhere because of her own stubbornness. Because of her devotion to her ideals and promises.

Even so…

She turned toward the descending Sun, slowly trudging after it. There was an uphill path in front of her, behind which the Sun tried to flee from her. But she continued forward.

It wasn’t that she wanted to die under the sunset. It was simply that she had excess determination still left within her that remained unused. There was nowhere she could meaningfully direct it towards–so she decided to chase the Sun instead.

Step by step, she dragged her feet up the hill, her shoulders swaying left and right with each step. Her eyes were unfocused as they watched the ground pass beneath her. She would continue forward until there was no ground left. That was all she had left to do.

… I’m so tired.

Perhaps due to the blood loss, she could see dark spots appearing in and out in her view. But it was comforting–it was like it was raining, or perhaps snowing. It was peaceful. Even romantic. She felt cold, and she felt like it would be at any moment that someone would come and hug her. But the only thing that was keeping her warm was the dream that she held within her.

Soon, she arrived at the cliffside. She couldn’t go any further to chase the Sun. And the Sun slowly descended into the Earth. Even if the path had continued further, she would have never reached it. This was the end of her destiny; the world itself refused to help her further.

She had taken up the sword to pave open a path for humanity to walk. She had affected the course of humanity in many small ways, and yet no one had been truly saved. Everyone would eventually end up at such a cliff, unable to follow their dreams any further.

Then Abigail Kovacs grit her teeth, irritated by her own doubtful thoughts.

… But that was never the point, was it?

She watched the sunset. This was the same Sun she had seen when she promised Victor to change the world with him. Victor had given up on their promise a long time ago, and yet she had never forgotten.

It can’t be wrong to believe that things should be different.

She stared toward the descending Sun, then stared up into the sky. The stars were not yet visible from here. The wind blew from ahead of her, and she crouched forward, holding her shoulder as she remained standing, trying to stay awake until she could see the night sky. To her mild annoyance, it seemed like it was snowing harder and harder around her, as if the world itself was trying to put her to sleep.

Her left knee momentarily touched the ground, but she slowly stood back up. She looked down at her left hand. She didn’t have enough hands left to properly wield a sword, and not enough arms to hug her loved ones. But she clenched her remaining fist.

“... I deny you, world,” she whispered.

Abigail Kovacs fell to her right. Her lifeless eyes remained looking forward to the fading Sun as her hair swayed gently in the wind. She had chosen chivalry over life itself.

Her promise remained unbroken.