"Talulah, why do you care so much about the Infected? You should know that what you're doing changes nothing."
"But if we don't act—if everyone simply accepts that the Infected deserve their suffering—then who will ever stand for them?"
"Talulah, you're being ridiculous. Utterly foolish. As my successor, you don't need to concern yourself with such trivial matters. Why are you doing this? You're not Infected. You don't even have any friends or family who are."
"…"
"You're racing headlong down a path to death, Talulah. I allowed you to establish your charity because I thought you merely wanted to build political capital for a future career. The late Emperor may have despised the Infected, but the new one—he has ideas of his own."
"…"
"But it seems I overestimated you. Just a fool's luck after all—I actually thought you had finally begun to understand."
"…There are better ways to achieve what we want."
"Heh… And what does that have to do with me? Why should I bear the hatred of the uninfected masses? How can you even guarantee that the ones you save… deserve to be saved?"
"…"
"Come back to me, Talulah. Abandon this meaningless dream of yours. It's time you accepted reality."
"Maybe I am running toward death, Kashchey… but at least I'll leave behind something the Infected across the world will remember. Maybe I won't be the one who succeeds—but I'll become the foundation for those who come after me, something they can learn from."
"…Heh. You've gone mad, Talulah."
---
"Kashchey! Look me in the eye!"
Bruises covered Talulah's body.
But Kashchey, too, was injured—his wounds hidden beneath the immaculate fabric of his clothes.
He eyed Wei Yenwu warily, who stood before Talulah with Chi Xiao drawn, shielding her with trembling hands.
Even the slightest movement betrayed his pain.
As for Ch'en—
She had been knocked unconscious by Wei Yenwu earlier and was left in Shadow Guard's care.
"Wei Yenwu~ It seems that all these years of comfort have dulled your edge."
Kashchey spoke with mock cheer, his tone deliberately relaxed.
His clothes were unscathed, immaculate—an illusion of invincibility.
Black Snakes were always obsessive in the strangest ways.
"…"
Wei Yenwu said nothing.
He simply tightened his grip on Chi Xiao, refusing to move aside.
He had already lost his sister.
He would not—could not—watch his sister's child die before his eyes.
"…Wei Yenwu, stand aside."
Looking at the man who was both her mother's killer and her uncle, Talulah's heart wavered.
Yet she stepped forward from behind him, ignoring his outstretched arm, her gaze fixed upon Kashchey—
who was now half-bound by Lin Kojui's swirling sandstorm.
Meanwhile, Lin Kojui himself was reaching his limit.
'…I'm sorry, Edward.'
With a single sweep of his reinforced steel rod, Kashchey shattered the sandstorm apart.
He was still smiling.
But his hands never stopped moving.
The remaining Black Snakes forced his body to its absolute limit, pushing his Originium Arts-enhanced physique to sustain an impossible level of combat intensity.
Then—he felt it.
Something wrong.
'…Ah, you like to evolve mid-battle, do you?'
'Tch… Why did I ever bother teaching you so much?'
---
'The distractions are gone.'
Talulah gripped the black sword-staff Kashchey had once given her—the one capable of channeling her Originium Arts.
Swordsmanship had never been her strength.
Her true power lay in Arts.
And now, she would unleash everything.
Flames consumed everything.
The courtyard trees burned.
Steel beams melted into slag among the ruins.
Only one thing remained unbent—
the reinforced steel rod clutched in Kashchey's hand.
The scorching air roared like a beast, gnawing mercilessly at everyone's skin.
Even Kashchey was forced to pour more power into his Originium Arts just to keep his body from breaking under the heat.
The will of the Black Snake was fading—most fragments were already exhausted.
Wei Yenwu, though his years of bureaucracy had dulled his edge, was far from as weak as Kashchey mocked him to be.
At the very least, he had managed to strike hard enough for Talulah's sake—forcing Kashchey's manifested body to its limits.
…The Draco bloodline truly is remarkable.
Kashchey hurled the steel rod in his hand at Talulah—
but it melted in midair before it could even reach her.
"Come then, Talulah."
The same smile remained on Kashchey's face.
In fact, ever since she had spoken those words to him, his expression hadn't changed at all—
a smile too perfect, too stiff, too false.
He channeled every ounce of strengthening Arts into his body.
"Show me, my dear… just how far you've grown to dare raise your hand against me."
Talulah knew full well—
trying to defeat Kashchey with the very techniques he had taught her was a fool's dream.
But now… she was no longer the same.
She was Infected.
An Infected who could wield her own body as her staff.
---
"Talulah, as one of Draco royal blood, heir to the Eternal Duke of Ursus—
how can you still struggle against mere Emperor's Blades?!"
"…Perhaps my teaching methods were at fault. Otherwise, there's no reason for this.
With the potential of that body, you should easily defeat three of them at once."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"Don't speak. Watch and learn!"
"…Well? Speechless, aren't you~"
"What do you mean I never taught you? You simply forgot—
Fine, I'll demonstrate one last time."
"I'll say this only once more: your Originium Arts are no excuse to neglect your swordsmanship!"
"…Forget it. I won't teach you swordsmanship anymore. Perhaps you should learn to play to your strengths instead."
"This—this is my latest study on the manipulation of flame and temperature in Arts.
Figure it out yourself. My body can't use it properly anyway, so… consider it a gift."
"You must learn to stand on your own, Talulah! I can't always design spells for you.
I have my own affairs to attend to."
"…This will be the last time. Don't expect another."
---
Talulah gasped for breath, staring down at Kashchey's motionless body lying on the ground.
That same smile remained on his face—
and, as always, his clothes were spotless.
"…"
She knelt beside him.
Of course, she knew—this wasn't truly Kashchey's death.
Only one of his many vessels had fallen.
So why… why couldn't she stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks?
Her hands trembled as she held his, whispering through broken breaths:
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"
Her tears fell onto Kashchey's lifeless form.
No one spoke.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Yet in her grief, Talulah failed to notice—
a tiny Black Snake slithered up from Kashchey's hand, following her grasp, coiling onto her wrist.
…Crying?
How dull.
The serpent sank its fangs into her skin.
Talulah collapsed.