Ashes (1)
The moment I spotted Count Bermont approaching across the street, my head filled with a ringing noise.
A high-pitched sound swept through my mind, dulling my senses and flooding my vision with a bright red hue. As I staggered and grasped the window frame, letters swirled around me.
[Error access! Don't let Leovald's body be taken away.] [Error access! Don't let Leovald's body be taken away.] [Error access! Don't let Leovald's body be taken away.] [Error access! Don't let Leovald's body be taken—.]
The repeated surge of information was so intense that my eyes felt like they were burning.
The status window spoke to me in a more direct and simplistic manner than ever before. It insisted that I must not let go of Leovald's corpse, which had crawled out of that labyrinth. That thing, taking on the form of Count Bermont. No, with only half of its head blown off, it was hard to even refer to it as the Count; it was a monster wandering through the daytime city centre. A sharp scream echoed through the street.
"Ahhh!"
Its body appeared to be undergoing continuous collapse. One corner of it crumbled like wet sand, repeatedly breaking down and reforming, each time grabbing fleeing citizens and devouring them. With that, its disintegrating form began to regain its coherence. The sight was utterly surreal. Had there ever been a time like this in the story world? This place had always been a continuous sequence of the unreal.
Even so, isn't this clearly strange?
'This is the intermission, after all.'
Then why is the incident not ending?
In that moment, Leonardo stepped onto the window frame and jumped down. There was no time to cover his face with a mask or anything.
Swoosh!
As Leonardo swung his sword twice, a long slash cut through the air, scraping the ground and creating a boundary line. Thanks to his intervention, the creature's predatory behaviour was disrupted, and under Leonardo's protection, the citizens began to flee, rapidly emptying the streets.
The monster, now only a remnant of the Count, raised its dripping fingers and pointed at Leonardo. It seemed to want to say something, but the area that should have formed words was crushed, rendering it incapable of producing sound. It could only make a hissing noise, like air escaping. What on earth did it want to say in that state?
Expecting a voice from something that had already forgotten itself might have been a foolish endeavour. Perhaps even referring to it as Count Bermont was an absurdity. After a few seconds spent assessing the situation, I quickly whispered to Vittorio as I turned to look at him.
"You need to get out of here. Take your friends downstairs with you. Tell the other kids in the street to stay as far away from here as possible. And if you have time, could you let others know the same?"
However, Vittorio didn't leave right away; he grabbed my sleeve.
"What about you?"
I forced a faint smile for the little one.
"We'll be fine."
Only after gently pushing the child's back did I finally remain alone in the inn. Fragments of memories swirled chaotically in my mind. For some time, I had suspected that the scenario notes were a script being written in real time. There must be someone, or something—some presence as both observer and author. Having confirmed the existence of the writers in the labyrinth, I can now draw a conclusion.
Wasn't I already guessing who Ò was pointing to from the wound of <Ò.L //// F.O>?
This convenient tool called the stigmata, left for me as if to predict the future. And the one who appeared as a saviour during the crisis in the labyrinth, helping Leonardo and me. Repeated coincidences are no coincidence.
I recall their figures, who appeared in the first chapter, explaining Leonardo's narrative. Opening the story by speaking the narrative is the role of a writer. Sometimes, this role can be delegated to the characters, but when it isn't suitable for them, it can be substituted by narration. What they did that day was to use the appearances and voices of the supporting characters, Butier and Orlie, to narrate the stage. I only now suspect this.
"Orlie, and Butier."
If they are the writers, they must be watching this space between the lines. What happened in the gaps has always been reflected in the scenario notes.
"Are you the writers?"
There was no answer. It didn't matter. I had no way of knowing how they would think of and treat me, the foreign substance on this stage, but at least I knew that they had reset the stage several times for Leonardo. I just needed to ask a question that forced an answer.
"What happens if that thing takes Leovald's body?"
At that moment, the illumination of the world dimmed. The light inside the inn, neatly separated from the confrontation outside between Leonardo and that creature, suddenly faded away.
Fade-out. It was the prelude to a reset, the darkness that always descended when the situation in the underground labyrinth reached an extreme. As this phenomenon reoccurred before my eyes, my heart began to race uncontrollably. Was it learned fear?
I tightened my grip on the wound on my right arm, using the pain to push away the terror as I sank into thought.
'So that's it. If the body is taken, it resets. I'm glad to get at least this much of an answer. It's also true that you've been watching all along.'
I had to prevent the body from being taken. Steeling my unsteady body, I made my way downstairs. Was it right after I descended to the first floor? Suddenly, the inn's door shattered with a loud crash, and a huge mass came barreling in with a bang!
Startled, I turned to the side and saw Leonardo flying into the inn, crashing to the ground. The ordeal he must have faced in that brief moment must have been nothing short of catastrophic; he looked a complete mess.
"Leo!"
As I helped him up by supporting his shoulder, he groaned in pain. When I reached out and felt his waist, it didn't seem like there was any external injury; it looked like he had taken the blow from just now.
[Scenario weight: 18.96%]
As I turned my head, wondering how much damage Leonardo had taken in such a short time, I was left speechless by the sight of a grotesque mass that was barely walking on two legs, its upper body completely twisted and mangled.
'He really did his best.'
I felt a sense of futility watching it slowly start to piece itself back together, thanks to its characteristic monstrous regeneration. At the very least, I needed to buy some time until Leonardo could move again. I leaned him against the wall and tried to step forward, but he grabbed my fingertips. Leonardo wiped the blood from his forehead, furrowed his brow, and opened his mouth slightly.
"Don't go," he said.
I gripped his shoulder tightly for a moment before letting go.
[Scenario weight: 19.40%]
It began regenerating from the head that had flown away, with blood vessels and muscle fibres sprouting from thin air, forming its vocal cords and lips. A tongue, coated in a whitish film, grew and flicked around.
"Ah."
"Hey, you're looking for the body of Leovald, right?"
Its movements halted.
"It seems you've been chasing us, but the location of the body is known only to me. You should have thought twice before messing with me."
After all, the opponent didn't even have proper eyes. I tapped lightly near my temple, smiling sweetly to taunt it. It meant that the information was inside me.
"I have no intention of telling you with my own mouth. If you want information, why don't you try to eat me instead…?"
"Ah, ahhh!"
As if refusing to back down, it tore its body in half and lunged at me. Just like before, this tactic worked well on these creatures.
As I quickly turned my body and ran up the stairs, the wooden steps, which creaked even on normal days, echoed loudly. With each crash of the tavern being destroyed, my heart felt increasingly desolate. It felt as if this building, used as a backdrop for the stage, was nearing its end. I burst into a random guest room, intending to step onto the window frame and jump down, when an oddly textured arm grabbed me and stopped me.
"Ugh!"
The recoil sent us both rolling several times across the floor. My vision spun and swirled dizzily, and it gained the upper hand. My body was heavily pinned down by its weight. I tried to shove it away, but before I could, it grabbed my head and pushed me down. In the process, its rough hands pried my lips apart, and its fingers poked into the soft flesh inside my cheeks.
"Ugh."
As it pinned me down, it opened its mouth wide. The mouth split crosswise, along with its face, exposing everything inside, and a fluid that was either blood or mucus began to flow over my cheek.
'This is disgustingly gross! Damn it! When is Leonardo coming?!'
"..."
And then, it suddenly became rigid, not moving an inch.
Just when my confusion was about to surge beyond my fear, it curved its lips into a smile. It was a smile that was clearly not that of the Count Bermont, nor was it one that it could create. It was far too refined to be attributed to it, and far too oppressive to be considered that of a Count.
As I gazed at the smooth smile painted on its lips, I instinctively used
At the end of that long line…
[Accessing information on the designated entity.]
[The designated entity's rank is higher than that of the caster, so most information is excluded from view.][Viewing information.]
Rank – ■■ (Scenario weight ■■.■%)
Role – ■■■■■■
Script – [■■■■■■]
Dialogue – None
Special Ability –
A very unfamiliar and strange voice flowed out, borrowed from its shell and vocal cords.
"Hello?"
[Sub Writer 1: Hello?]