Damn Reincarnation

Chapter 568: Night (8)

Noir’s eyes never opened again.

Eugene quietly gazed at her face, which looked as peaceful as if she were merely sleeping. There was no sign of pain, no hint of lingering regret — just a serene, self-satisfied expression.

Noir Giabella had died.

He turned his head to look at the distant sunrise, which was already hanging in the sky above. The night had passed, and morning had arrived. The light descending from the twilight sky illuminated the city. A once vibrant place was now reduced nearly to rubble, with most buildings collapsed.

Eugene paused to look at the frozen Ferris Wheel, then let out a short laugh.

“It’s over,” he said.

Noir Giabella was dead.

He felt it deeply once again. A sudden pain surged from his severed arm, and his chest felt as if it might burst or tear open. His whole body trembled with a chill, and his head spun as his vision began to blur.

“I’m going to faint,” Eugene stated.

He chuckled bitterly. Disregarding everything else that had taken place, he had used Ignition twice in a row. Even discounting the successive use of Ignition, he could not have been fine. He had endured mental attacks in nightmares and had fought fiercely on the line of death in reality. His injuries were not limited to his left arm; even his insides felt shredded. It was a miracle he was even alive, and the backlash from pushing himself so hard was more than mere discomfort.

“Sienna,” he called out.

Eugene unclenched his hand, which was still covered in blood. It revealed a necklace. He looked at Noir’s left hand, at the ring on her ring finger, and sighed deeply.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Sienna, who had been sitting slumped, flinched at his question.

She replied with a pout, “What do you mean, okay?”

“Just everything. Your body… or….” Eugene trailed off.

“The conversation you just had, the emotions you’re feeling… honestly, I’m not okay with them,” replied Sienna.

She staggered to her feet. She saw the shadows of Eugene and Noir, created by the dawn light, in the midst of the ruined city. Their shapes were overlapping closely.

“Still, I’ll say I’m okay,” she corrected.

“But you just said you’re not okay,” Eugene questioned.

“I mean, I’m not really okay, but I’ll say I am. It’s not like I can’t understand you, and then, that whore—” She stopped herself mid-sentence.

It wasn’t that she thought Eugene would react to the word. She didn’t even consider that he would. But Noir’s last smirk and her will had prevented Sienna from uttering the derogatory term.

“Noir Giabella did try to kill you. But still, in her dying moment, she did think well for your sake and intended for you to live,” Sienna said.

“You call that for my sake,” Eugene snorted softly and reached out to Noir.

Psss.

Her body was slowly turning to ash. It wasn’t immediate, perhaps because he hadn’t used the Divine Sword to finish her off. Still, it was only a matter of time. Before the morning passed, she would be completely gone.

And Eugene likely wouldn’t witness that scene.

“Noir didn’t want me to live for my sake, but rather… she left a curse. She wanted me to remember this day forever and suffer,” Eugene explained.

Carefully, Eugene lifted Noir’s left hand and slowly removed the ring from her ring finger.

Sienna watched silently. Swayed by his emotions, if Eugene were to put the ring on his finger, she thought it wouldn’t really matter as long as it lightened the burden on his heart.

“So, you mean you’ll be tormented by today,” Sienna asked probingly.

“It seems likely,” Eugene answered.

“Do you regret killing Noir Giabella?” Sienna asked.

“I don’t regret it. She needed to be killed, and she herself desired death. That’s why I killed her. If I hadn’t, she would have killed me,” Eugene replied simply.

Sienna still couldn’t fully grasp their relationship. Could she forgive Noir Giabella? Honestly, it was difficult. But she could accept it as inevitable. Eugene probably felt the same.

But in the end, it had come to this.

“It can’t be helped,” Eugene said, his voice trailing off into a faint smile. “Things turned out as we both wished. I would raise a toast if I could, but that’s not possible.”

“Yeah,” said Sienna.

“I’m about to faint,” Eugene repeated.

“Yeah…. Wait, what?” Startled, Sienna looked up to see Eugene casually wiping the bloodied ring and examining the engraving inside.

Each of the rings was engraved with the names Hamel Dynas and Noir Giabella. Eugene quietly threaded the two rings onto a chain and hung it around his neck.

“Aren’t you going to wear it on your finger?” Sienna inquired.

“No,” answered Eugene.

“Why?” Sienna asked curiously.

“What would you have me say if you ask ‘why’? There’s no profound reason. I just don’t want to play into Noir’s wishes,” he grumbled as he flicked the pair of rings on the necklace.

It felt awkward suddenly wearing two necklaces.

“Hey, right. My left arm? Where’s my left arm?” Eugene asked, looking around.

“Don’t worry, I’ve kept it safe. But are you sure this will really reattach?” Sienna asked skeptically.

She flicked her finger, and a large orb appeared in the sky. Eugene’s left arm was floating inside. The original mud- and blood-caked arm was now cleanly washed, even at the severed end.

“I’ve disinfected it, but what if it doesn’t reattach?” Sienna asked, worried.

“Molon reattached his legs backward once and had to cut them off again to fix them, so why wouldn’t an arm reattach? And it’s not the first time I’ve lost an arm,” Eugene explained patiently.

“That’s true, but, um… the circumstances are different from when you lost it three hundred years ago. You still haven’t healed the scar on your cheek. It would be problematic if you became one-armed. I don’t think you can beat the Demon King of Incarceration with just one arm,” Sienna said seriously.

“This is a scar from a curse, so that’s different. My left arm will be fine. It wasn’t severed by a curse,” answered Eugene.

During the battle with Noir, her attacks until the very end were murderous but not cursed. The only curse she left was her last will.

“What about you? Are you going to take the Demoneye of Fantasy?” Eugene asked.

“She told me to use it, so why wouldn’t I accept it? I’m going to… take it,” Sienna responded, her voice tense as she gripped the edge of her robe. “I need it to kill the Demon King of Incarceration.”

“Aren’t you worried it’s a trap set by Noir Giabella?” Eugene asked.

“You aren’t either,” retorted Sienna.

“True enough.” Eugene chuckled weakly and then lay sprawled on the ground. Only then did Sienna realize what he had said earlier and hurried to his side.

“You, you said you were about to faint? Why? Where does it hurt?” Sienna asked.

“Can’t you see?” Eugene responded mockingly.

“Can’t I see…? I mean… is it bad enough to faint?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m forcing my eyes open right now. It’s getting hard even to keep them open. I’m sleepy,” he answered.

“Sleepy? Are you sure… that’s okay? What if you never wake up?” Sienna asked anxiously.

“Don’t say something so ominous. Just do me a favor,” asked Eugene.

“A favor! A favor? How can I not speak ominously when you talk like that!? You’re not making a will, are you?” asked Sienna.

“It’s not a will, so don’t worry. I’m just fainting. I might be out for a few days… maybe even a week. Take Kristina and Anise and go back to the Lionheart estate. You explain the situation,” asked Eugene.

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“Hey…!”

“Don’t try to wake me if I sleep for too long. If you’re really worried, tell my Holy Knights and Kristina and Anise to pray. That should do it. And—” he paused.

With a feeble hand that barely moved, he gestured towards the ruins.

“Erase this city,” he asked.

“…..”

“I’d do it myself if I had the strength. Please,” he requested.

“Well… That’s not a difficult request,” responded Sienna.

He was asking her to erase the remnants of the city. Was it his desire not to remember this place as it had been, even though no trace of the old city remained in these ruins?

Sienna sighed briefly and nodded.

“What about the body?” she questioned.

“It’ll disappear on its own. You need to take the Demoneye of Fantasy before it does,” he answered.

“What about a grave… or a tombstone?” she questioned.

“Are you crazy? No need,” he said.

Eugene looked at Sienna with disgust. His golden eyes were unfocused and dull. Sienna chuckled softly as his eyes began to close.

“Okay. Get some rest. Sleep well,” she said.

“It feels strange if you word it like that,” Eugene murmured a complaint.

He wondered if he might dream as his heavy eyelids closed.

He didn’t want to dream.

***

“So it is,” murmured the Demon King of Incarceration.

He was seated on a throne of dark chains in Babel, Pandemonium. He opened his eyes as he spoke, “Has she gone then?”

Noir Giabella had died.

What had transpired in her domain, Giabella City, or what battles had been fought there, he could not see. There had been no place in Helmuth, or rather, the entire continent, that was beyond the Demon King of Incarceration’s observation.

Or rather, that had been the case before.

For the past year, the Demon King of Incarceration had been unable to observe Giabella City. The dream Noir Giabella had crafted and maintained was so insular that even he could not easily peer into it.

Even though the Demoneye of Divine Glory had been used to construct the dream, ironically, the bestower of the Demoneye had been unable to interfere.

Noir Giabella had thoroughly controlled both the Demoneye of Divine Glory and the Demon King of Incarceration, using the power of the Demoneye while stubbornly refusing to accept any of the Demon King of Incarceration’s dark power.

“It had been quite difficult for me to imagine your death,” the Demon King of Incarceration chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. Of course, had he refused, Noir could not have used the Demoneye of Divine Glory.

But he had not refused. He had let Noir Giabella have her way, recklessly using the powers of an emperor, a Demon King, without even being asked. Was it because she was Helmuth’s highest taxpayer? Was it because she was a duke? Because of her distinguished services three hundred years ago? Any of these could be a reason.

But more than anything, the Demon King of Incarceration had not refused because Noir Giabella had been so fervent. She had doggedly pursued a lifelong ambition and likely reached a satisfying conclusion.

The Demon King of Incarceration felt slight envy.

“Was it for Hamel that you covered the night?” he muttered.

He had been unable to observe the dream. Even as it ultimately collapsed, the city’s dark power continued to defy the Demon King of Incarceration’s observation until the end. Therefore, the Demon King of Incarceration could not know how Noir Giabella’s dream had evolved and reached its conclusion, how an entity of her stature could die, and how Hamel had managed to deal her a death blow.

“Or was it for a deep dream of your own?” he questioned.

He could not know the answer. Noir Giabella was dead. She had not made a pact with the Demon King of Incarceration, so her soul was not bound to flow to him. Perhaps her very soul had been extinguished. Eugene’s Divine Sword, Levantein, could have incinerated even her soul.

“You had quite a relationship with Noir Giabella,” the Demon King of Incarceration said.

He looked down. From the dark palace, a blurry figure surged up.

“Duke Giabella was one of my few patrons,” replied Balzac Ludbeth.

He was the only surviving one of the Three Mages of Incarceration.

“When I was the master of the Black Tower, she donated substantial sums annually, and during my studies in Helmuth, she supported me in many ways,” Balzac continued.

“I remember. Duke Giabella enjoyed your ideals,” the Demon King commented.

“She did not mock me. She might have laughed, but there was no scorn. You were the same, Your Majesty,” Balzac responded.

“Did you say you wanted to become a legendary wizard? Someone who would be remembered in history?”

The Demon King of Incarceration gave a thin smile. Naturally, the Demon King of Incarceration knew of Balzac’s ideals.

Balzac Ludbeth.

The Demon King of Incarceration still remembered their first meeting, which had been facilitated by none other than Noir Giabella.

He had been a young candidate for the position of the Blue Tower Master, yet for some unknown reason, he left to pursue black magic in Helmuth instead. His unique background caught the attention of several high-ranking demons of Helmuth. Although many demons offered him pacts, Balzac formed no such alliances with any demon despite his intentions of becoming a black wizard.

Indeed, it was nearly impossible for a human to wield dark power without making a pact with a demon. Balzac was no exception.

While he rejected contracts with the demons, he wholeheartedly pursued black magic. He frequented the black wizard academy, facing disdain yet devouring every scroll and tome on the dark arts.

This eccentricity caught the eye of Noir Giabella. A groundbreaking agreement was made; Noir supported Balzac with dark power alone without binding his soul in return. Years later, having become a black wizard, Noir introduced Balzac to the Demon King of Incarceration.

“Do you mourn the death of Duke Giabella?” asked the Demon King of Incarceration.

“No,” Balzac said as he shook his head. “The duke often spoke to me about what death meant. Though our relationship cooled after I stepped down as the master of the Black Tower, I knew how much she yearned for death and her obsession with Hamel… Eugene Lionheart.”

Balzac paused and gave a bitter smile.

“If she has reached the death she longed for, and it was Eugene Lionheart who delivered it, then surely the duke must have died content. Such a death is more suited to blessings than mourning,” he said.

“That’s a very you answer,” the Demon King of Incarceration said with a slight smile and a nod. “Achieving one’s ideals, lifelong desires, or deepest wishes is no easy task, especially if they are almost unimaginable. How about you?”

“My own deepest wish is very similar. It is difficult to imagine it achieved,” responded Balzac.

“Do you consider it impossible?” asked the Demon King of Incarceration.

“I am doing my best… desperately. But, it seems impossible,” answered Balzac.

“If you wish, I could dissolve the contract,” said the Demon King.

Balzac flinched at the suggestion.

“That might bring you closer to your deepest wish. If you could overthrow those who will rise to this place soon… heh, it would be nothing short of legendary, but that’s impossible,” said the Demon King.

“You jest cruelly, Your Majesty,” Balzac said with a wry smile, shaking his head. “I will gratefully accept just your words. As you have said, Your Majesty, it is impossible for me to defeat Eugene Lionheart, Sienna Merdein, and Kristina Rogeris. However, I believe the opposite is also true,” said Balzac.

“The opposite,” mused the Demon King of Incarceration.

“If I were to dissolve our contract, I would become just an ordinary wizard. What could I accomplish then?” questioned Balzac.

“You might join forces with Sienna Merdein, whom you admire, to strike at me,” the Demon King of Incarceration suggested.

“Ha…. Your Majesty. If that were to happen, my ideal would turn into your defeat. That truly is unimaginable. It is impossible. I cannot envisage your defeat,” Balzac said.

“A black wizard who betrays the Demon King. Wouldn’t that make for quite a legendary tale?” the Demon King questioned.

“If betrayal leads to failure and defeat, then it will only bring ridicule and mockery. In that case, I would rather stake my ideal on Your Majesty,” Balzac said staunchly. He bowed deeply as he spoke, “Any enemy that invades here will have to step over my corpse to reach the throne.”

“You are free to flee,” said the Demon King.

“How could I run away and abandon the lord I serve?” Balzac asked.

“You are not so loyal to me,” the Demon King retorted.

“There is a desire that compels my loyalty,” Balzac answered.

“A desire,” the Demon King of Incarceration mused, looking down at Balzac and letting out a small chuckle. “What do you wish for?”

“If I die, please take my soul. Allow me to see the end with you,” Balzac requested.

“You do not wish for annihilation?” the Demon King asked.

“Which being would wish for annihilation?” said Balzac.

“It is not a difficult wish,” the Demon King responded.

A soul pact had already been made. Even if Balzac were to die, his soul would return to the Demon King of Incarceration.

The only exception was if he met his end with the Divine Sword that could incinerate even souls. But here in Babel, any soul that entered was claimed by the Demon King of Incarceration. Even if the Divine Sword turned Balzac’s body and soul to ash, Babel would gather even the ashes.

“Granted,” the Demon King of Incarceration said, closing his eyes in response. “Balzac Ludbeth, you may die here in Babel.”

“Yes.”

Pleased with the response, Balzac smiled contentedly and bowed even deeper.

“I shall indeed die here.”