A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

Along with the loud noise, there was also the rustling sound of pages turning and rubbing as the book was destroyed.

Long, long ago, the books that accompanied the girl through her lonely times were now becoming thick volumes.

The bookshelf was falling into an endless abyss, and the girl estimated that soon she would fall and disappear like the bookshelf.

Nobody remembers her, nobody knows her.

Who will remember this little girl named Seraya?

She wasn't even a person; she was merely the self-will within the ring.

What exactly is she? Seraya still doesn't understand.

"How scary..."

"Serea is so scared..."

Seraya finally burst into tears. The girl, who was not strong to begin with, had her feigned strength crumble.

The quiet darkness was enough to destroy this fragile shell.

"Don't be afraid." However, a gentle voice sounded above Seraya's head.

Betley appeared in front of the girl and slowly squatted down.

"..." The girl looked at the man who had suddenly appeared in front of her with teary eyes.

Her cute little face was full of confusion.

Why is the Master here? Why...?

But all doubts were dispelled by Beatrix’s scarred hands as he rubbed her hat.

"Master, Seraya is so scared all alone..." The girl rushed towards Beatrix.

"This place is going to disappear, and Seraya is going to disappear too..." Seraya's voice was choked with sobs.

"Seleya can no longer read books, and she can no longer wait for her Master."

The vulnerable child is crying out about the fear in his heart.

Seraya has far more fears than the average child.

"It's so dark and quiet... Seraya has been all alone."

When you're alone, there are so many things you can't express.

The young girl was filled with fear, but Seraya didn't know how to respond to her own feelings.

Every parting is incredibly painful, every wait is agonizing, and every reunion is so joyful.

However, in order not to trouble her Master, the sensible girl always spoke clumsily, not knowing how to express her true feelings.

It's like writing a letter, but before you've finished, you silently put down the pen and delete all your original thoughts.

If only Seraya were a little more willful, if only she weren't so sensible.

In that case, it wouldn't be like this now, making people feel sorry for them.

"I'm so sorry, I made you feel so bad because I was so timid." Beth comforted Seraya with an incredibly gentle tone.

The man who used to stand on the blood and grinned maliciously now speaks so softly, like falling cherry blossoms.

He was just cowardly, afraid that his bloodied hands would taint this lovable child.

The one who truly felt like a sister to Beatrix wasn't the girl who looked like her, but rather Seraya, who was waiting for him alone in the ring.

“You would probably be happier if I weren’t so timid.” Betley never believed that his will was any different from anyone else’s.

They are just some pitiful people who can't leave every place.

Seraya's cries echoed in the darkness, drowned out by the sound of the bookshelves collapsing.

Betley held Seraya, who looked as if she might break at any moment, without saying a word.

If only I could talk to Seraya more, and spend more time with her, that would be wonderful.

I am truly useless; I can do nothing but seek revenge.

But it was precisely because of this that he entrusted the last glimmer of hope for the world to someone else.

It's unrealistic to expect the Avengers to protect the world.

"Master, Master, Seraya is so scared..."

“Don’t be afraid, I’ll be by your side, so don’t be afraid,” Beatrix said.

But after a few seconds of hesitation, Seraya, holding back her tears, pushed Beatrix away.

With her hat askew and her eyes red, Seraya stared intently at Betley.

"No, Master, you must leave here."

"I'm already very happy that you came to see me."

"So you should leave now, this place doesn't belong to you."

“I’m not going anywhere,” Beatrix shook his head.

He's not going anywhere.

He will stay with Seraya until the very end of this mental world's collapse.

Seraya seemed to realize something and cried even harder than before.

"No, it's fine if only Seraya disappears, but the Master cannot disappear!"

"Master, you can't disappear, you..."

"You won't disappear..."

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Beatrix said softly.

"I just feel a little sorry for that slightly clumsy angel."

"After all, it's rare to have such an angel. It's such a pity that no one was able to make Him understand the goodness of the world."

"Serea," he called the girl's name.

"Um..."

"I will be with you until the very end, so that at least you won't be alone when the world is dark."

The thing Betley regrets most is that he wasn't there for his family members when they passed away.

If I had been able to stay by my family's side, the outcome would have been different.

At that time, my younger sister was crying just like Seraya, but I couldn't comfort her.

He is a heinous criminal, and nothing he does can make up for his sins.

"Hmm..." Seraya replied, clutching Beatrix's collar and closing her eyes.

---

The two rings fell to the ground and shattered.

However, the ring's owner is no longer in this world.

The huge hall was completely empty.

Both Betley's and Marek's bodies turned into dust.

Scattered. A hint of sadness lingered in the air.

Where does this wind come from? It must be from a very, very far place.

So far away that even the dead cannot recognize the way home.

"Snap." In the dark forest, a dead branch was broken by footsteps.

The man who had broken tree branches was covered in wounds, and his coat was tattered.

He picked up his sunglasses, then silently put them down again.

Because the lenses of these sunglasses are broken.

“The Tomb of Wandering,” the man murmured.

"Although I've heard about it, this is my first time here."

"As expected, I am already dead," Betley remarked.

This coat, these sunglasses, everything on me is fake.

Like the spirits people often see, they are often dressed in rags but never naked.

Betley is in the same situation now.

He was perfectly lucid, yet he knew better than anyone the fact that he was already dead.

At this moment, Beatrix has no intention of being resurrected.

He knew that "resurrection" was taboo, especially since he had not simply died, but had been killed by the Golden Seed.

The possibility of resurrection is extremely slim.

His battle with the gods, separated by the "wall of the world," was not intense, because he was the one being completely suppressed.

Betley had considered biting the gods like a mad dog at the last moment.

Unfortunately, the reality is cruel; Betley didn't even qualify to be that mad dog.

"Hmph, how ironic. No matter how hard you try, it's all in vain against the absolute strength of the opponent?" Beatrix said.

He was killed so easily, just like that.

However, he still couldn't understand what Marek was thinking.

Is Marek risking his life to save his own?

No, he was risking his life to create that moment when Betley confronted the gods.

He was thinking about the stage play where "the gods judge a mere mortal".

Unfortunately, the stage play was not entertaining.

Is it really worth risking one's life for this, or does the reincarnated person truly not care about their own life?

I don't understand, and I don't want to understand.

If Betley understood, he would be just as crazy.

He looked around, surveying the cemetery where the living were forbidden to enter.

“Even in death, you retain curiosity and a thirst for exploration. You truly possess the talent of a seeker, a rebellious monastic.” The purple-haired woman, carrying a lantern, walked over unhurriedly.

His pale complexion sent a chill down one's spine.

“Humans have the talents of explorers, creators, users, and destroyers, right?” Beatrix said with a smile.

This is an unconventional way of saying "talent," and I never expected to hear someone say it.

"Are you the guardian of the 'Wandering Tomb'?" Beatrix asked, looking at the stunningly beautiful female spirit before him.

Mira tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and acquiesced.

"When the Avengers lose their target for revenge, they become lost."

"The lost and confused will fall into the 'Wandering Tomb'."

So you are here now.

“However, it is very rare for a dead person to be able to maintain self-awareness here.” Mira glanced at Betley indifferently.

“What good is rarity? In the end, it all vanishes into nothingness. That’s just how it is with the dead,” Beatrix said.

He estimated that he wouldn't be able to maintain this state for long, and would soon drift into a daze or return to the world.

Returning to the world's embrace is just a nice-sounding way of saying it; in reality, it means becoming nothingness.

"Isn't the 'Wandering Tomb' just a massive machine for dealing with an excess of souls?"

“You’re right, but I don’t like that way of putting it.” Mira shook her head.

No gravedigger would like Beatrix's statement, because if the "Wandering Tomb" is a machine, then the gravedigger is just a cog in it.

Such an existence is too tragic.