Chapter 21: The Side Story
Nothing held meaning in the presence of the man.
It was utterly meaningless.
It wasn’t even a fight; it was a one-sided massacre. In the face of this being, the advanced Type-2 armor, the old empire’s technology, and the cause of the revolution were all rendered insignificant. Not a single thing was exempt. Revolution, struggle, justice, and all the constructs of meaning crumbled like a sandcastle before the god of meaninglessness.
“Y-you monster…!”
In front of this being, human resistance was truly meaningless.
“Did you call me a monster?”
The man asked the trembling Type-2 armored soldiers.
“Eek!”
The night raven’s robe fluttered as if alive, its hem splitting into countless tendrils. Like Shub-Niggurath of old, the tendrils writhed beneath the robe, toying with his enemies.
With the cruelty of a child playing with ants, yet with an indescribable purity, the shadowy tendrils slithered toward the advanced Type-2 armor.
“Such a crude attempt.”
The magic armor wasn’t even a weapon of the revolutionaries. It was forged by the magicians of the Fourth Empire for the imperial heavy infantry once known as the “Black Armor Company.”
The essence of the great magic empire, yet nothing more. Hence, Dale mocked.
“Did you really think you could challenge me with weapons meant for my soldiers?”
The demon lord moved forward, tendrils of shadow in tow.
The armored soldiers were ensnared, unable to move a finger. Dale walked calmly among them.
Beneath the raven-black robe, countless shadows and tendrils writhed.
“Die, you monster…!”
One soldier, bound by tendrils, desperately reached out. An arm wrapped in black metal twisted into the form of a gun.
Boom!
An explosion roared, but Dale continued his steady pace. It was, as expected, meaningless.
“Meaningless.”
“You monster, you…!”
Right in front of him.
The soldier who fired the gun muttered in shock, and Dale tilted his head, puzzled.
“Do I look like a monster to you?”
“Look at yourself! Do you think anyone could call you human?”
“Undoubtedly human.”
Dale’s shadowy tendrils wrapped around the soldier’s limbs and neck. At the same time, he glimpsed the truth hidden within the soldier’s shadow. It wasn’t even a truth they wished to hide. There was a massacre in the name of revolution.
“As an undeniable human and monster, I’ve wandered the world’s wilderness seeking the form of meaning.”
The god of meaninglessness spoke.
“Tell me, humans. Does your revolution have ‘meaning’? Do you think the era that follows will become your meaning?”
Swoosh!
The shadowy tendrils tore the soldier’s limbs from the armor, finally wrapping around the neck.
The fate awaiting the iron-clad soldiers.
Even the cause and value of the revolution held no meaning before the baptism of futility from the god of meaninglessness.
And so, fear descended.
“I remember those who truly sought truth and meaning, each finding their own answers.”
Among them, Dale recalled a certain man.
The immortal Frederick, and his father, still waiting in the castle of Saxon. The blue Arachne who entrusted everything to Dale and vanished.
And Lize, who taught Dale the futility of sacrifice through her own.
Each of them had their own answers.
“My ancestor, the immortal Frederick, said that futility itself is our truth and meaning.”
Thus, Dale continued.
“But my father said that things that remain untainted by death are the true meaning of this world.”
Just as Dale now denied their meanings, so did the immortal Frederick.
Yet Dale’s words did not reach the ears of the iron-clad soldiers. So Dale gave a bitter smile.
“I too found my own answer to ‘meaning,’ and that blind obsession brought suffering to those I love.”
He smiled bitterly and spoke.
“This journey has become so tiresome.”
Dale waved his hand, like a child bored with a toy.
“Gold and shadows, emperor and revolution, the meanings you pursue are so futile and trivial, I can’t bear it.”
The god of meaninglessness spoke. And the revolutionaries there, wrapped in the cold of the world’s end, fell.
Their cries for revolution, their desperate struggle for it, all were swallowed into the abyss of nothingness.
The Ninth Empire, the revolutionaries, gold and shadows, the land was still overflowing with all forms of meaning.
To the man, it was nothing more than the tiresome idling of history.
The only fact humans can learn from history is that they learn nothing from it.
Even if it was a history built on blood and war, nothing would change.
Thus, what Dale had to do was clear.
He would take the entire world and grant it to himself and those he loved.
No need to sacrifice for the world, no need to atone by leaving loved ones in pain.
──Just so he and those he loved could live happily ever after.
No matter what stood in his way.
Dale walked toward the heart of the Ninth Empire, and there were those who stood in his path.
Sometimes it was the revolutionaries, sometimes those of the Ninth Empire desperately trying to protect the emperor. Each had their own cause for standing before the man.
And each time, there was the god of meaninglessness, stripping away their meaning.
“Why do you stand in my way?”
Countless soldiers lay dead around him. A war had been waged against a single man, and at the end of it, the man walked through the corpses, asking calmly.
“We cannot let you reach His Majesty the Emperor…!”
“Is that why you gathered this army?”
A nobleman, resolute to the end, and Dale sneered.
“Did you think you could stop me by gathering nobles, knights, mercenaries, and even serfs?”
“You, you monster…!”
“Let me tell you the meaning of your actions.”
With those words, Dale snapped his fingers coldly.
Darkness surged from beneath, and light vanished from the sky.
Then it happened.
The countless corpses strewn about were enveloped in darkness and began to rise.
“A-ah, ah…!”
“Did you gather them to offer me an army? At least your actions weren’t meaningless.”
The mountain of corpses and sea of blood stretched beyond the horizon, each taking form and rising.
Countless undead and death knights, blood golems made of blood, innumerable immortals knelt and bowed before their master.
Simultaneously, an unseen force acted between the undead, drawing their bodies together. Flesh, blood, bone, armor, and blades, all were drawn together as if swept by a black hole.
An Abomination.
An unspeakably horrific, immortal colossus stood there.
The end of those who dared to stand against the god of meaninglessness.
The noble made a final desperate attempt, but that was the end.
Dale looked up calmly. Even from a distance that seemed insurmountable, he could clearly feel it.
The emperor of the Ninth Empire, who once bore his name, the Shadow Lord. And the heart of the empire he ruled.
“Welcome to the Saxon family, Miss Yufi.”
Lize spread her arms wide with a smile. But Yufi hesitated, not immediately embracing her.
“Oh my, what’s the matter?”
”…I’m sorry.”
Yufi swallowed, unable to understand her own hesitation. Lize watched her with a gentle smile.
“It seems you don’t quite like me, Miss Yufi.”
“Th-that’s not true!”
Lize smiled wryly, and Yufi quickly shook her head.
“There’s no need to be flustered. You’re already part of the Saxon family, someone my brother cherishes and protects.”
”…!”
At Lize’s words, Yufi’s face turned bright red.
Whenever she recalled Lize, Dale’s sister, she remembered the sorrowful expression on Dale’s face.
And she remembered the look on Dale’s face when he saw her, and when he reunited with those he loved.
Lize once said that Uncle Dale was someone Yuffie couldn’t even begin to imagine in his past life. It was Lize’s sacrifice and cunning that transformed Dale into the man he is today.
Thanks to Lize, Yuffie met Dale, and together they managed to reach this point.
Yet, despite everything, what was this unsettling feeling that crept over her?
It was as if a spider was crawling across her skin—a deeply ominous sensation.
There it stood—a grotesque amalgamation of flesh, blood, bone, sword, shield, and armor.
Thud, thud!
With each step it took, the ground trembled, sending soldiers scattering in all directions. Fortresses, ramparts, and cannons, no matter how formidable, were rendered meaningless before it.
No one dared to stand in the path of this monstrous colossus. In truth, no one could.
Atop the giant’s shoulder stood a man.
His black robe, embroidered with the image of a night raven, fluttered in the wind as he gazed beyond the horizon.
A being that reduced all obstacles to nothingness. A man who did not love humanity.
Determined to put an end to the endless cycle of history’s repetition, he moved forward.
Toward the Shadow Lord and the heart of the Ninth Empire he ruled.