203: Blade Claw End

Time flowed, breath by breath, through this suffocating silence.

"Awake..."

A voice came from the stone throne.

Low and slow, like the rock strata deep underground grinding and rubbing against each other, every syllable carried immense weight.

Rock Stele's massive body remained motionless, without a single unnecessary movement, not even turning his head in the slightest.

"...It is too painful."

He was not making excuses; it was more like stating a cold, naked fact. A fact he had long understood and made his choice for.

"Give them... a dream."

His voice did not fluctuate in the slightest, as if he were talking about the weather or an ordinary stone.

"A... sweet enough dream."

"Let them... drown in it."

"It is better than... keeping one's eyes open, looking at despair, and feeling... boundless suffering."

As the words fell, the hall fell into silence once more.

That faint outline, the final mark belonging to Blade Claw that was about to dissipate, flickered slightly. As if unable to comprehend, yet as if having long expected it.

"Heh..."

Another extremely faint echo, filled with endless exhaustion and mockery.

"So... you just closed your eyes?"

Rock Stele did not answer the question directly.

His massive body seemed to adjust its sitting posture slightly.

"But..."

He spoke again, his voice still steady, yet carrying an unquestionable resolve.

"In this world, someone must always keep their eyes open."

"I..." Rock Stele's voice paused, and those empty eye sockets seemed to grow deeper, as if something was settling and churning within them, eventually returning to dead silence.

"I admit that because of my own weakness, I chose to close my eyes."

"But this is not... the end."

"After me..."

His voice suddenly rose slightly; although still low, it carried a declarative majesty that echoed over the ruins.

"Whoever sits upon this seat..."

He was referring to the stone throne beneath him, and also... the original throne that symbolized supreme power, now reduced to rubble.

"Must bear its weight!"

"Must... open their eyes and look at this world!"

"See clearly... all the truth!"

The words landed with a resounding thud, as if establishing an unshakeable iron law.

However...

"Hmph..."

A clearer, more disdainful snort came from that nearly transparent phantom.

This time, it was no longer simple mockery, but... complete, utter disdain from the depths of the Soul.

The phantom flickered violently, as if this intense emotional fluctuation had exhausted its final Foundation of existence.

"Haha... Hahahaha..."

Dry, hoarse laughter sounded intermittently, yet it was full of strength, like sharp pebbles smashing hard against Rock Stele's sturdy shell.

"King...?"

"Rock Stele... are you even worthy of being called King?"

The phantom's voice suddenly became sharp, carrying a pre-death madness and decisiveness.

"Sitting on the throne... yet afraid of the King's responsibilities?"

"Covering your own eyes... yet telling those who come after that they must open theirs?"

"You are nothing but a... coward!"

"A... pathetic wretch who stole the throne but dares not even bear the weight of the crown!"

"Pushing the responsibility to the future... leaving the darkness for yourself... what a 'great' self-sacrifice..."

"Rock Stele... you... ostrich with its head buried in the sand!"

Rock Stele remained indifferent to the mockery.

He just sat there, massive, heavy, and hard.

As if that mockery, which could pierce the Soul, was just a speck of insignificant dust raised upon striking him, only to fall and return to silence.

That faint outline did not seem surprised by this response.

"Heh..."

A breathy sound, so light it was almost impossible to catch, leaked from the phantom.

"You think..."

"You guard this place..."

"Establishing this ridiculous rule..."

"Will be able to... change anything?"

The voice was intermittent, like the final flicker of a candle in the wind, yet it carried an icy coldness that pierced through everything.

"How long can you guard it?"

"A hundred years? A thousand years?"

"Rock... also weathers."

"You..." The phantom flickered slightly, becoming even thinner, "...will also shatter."

"What about when you... are no longer here?"

"Who will... enforce your 'iron law'?"

"Who will... force those who come after... to open their eyes?"

That blurry outline seemed to "tilt" its head in Rock Stele's direction, although it was an almost non-existent movement.

"There will always... be a generation..."

"They will grow weary... grow tired... choose to bow their heads, close their eyes... and indulge in that 'sweet dream'... which you personally wove for them..."

"Your 'open your eyes to see the world'..."

"Your 'bear its weight'..."

"In the end... is nothing more than a bigger... lie that you left for future generations and yourself!"

"Flowers in a mirror and the moon in water... are ultimately... empty..."

Every word seemed to be squeezed from beneath a collapsing ice sheet, carrying bone-chilling coldness and... the final verdict.

The voice fell.

The phantom that had sustained itself to deliver this final mockery could no longer maintain its form.

It twisted, flickered, and dissipated violently.

Like thin ice under the scorching sun, it melted rapidly.

Like a drop of ink dropped into water, it spread rapidly, faded, until... it disappeared completely.

Those two dim points of light flickered one last time, as if they were a final mocking gaze, and then, they were completely extinguished.

Above the broken throne.

That once arrogant figure, that sole remaining final mark...

Was empty.

Nothing was left.

As if he had never existed.

Inside the hall, there was dead silence.

At the edge of the square, those Rebel Army soldiers still maintained their stiff postures, as if instantly petrified. Fear was still frozen on their faces, and their pupils reflected the empty remains of the throne.

The wind passed through these ruins once again.

Whimpering, it picked up the dust on the ground, swirled between the two thrones, and then quietly fell.

Rock Stele remained sitting on the stone throne opposite him.

Motionless.

That massive body, like a mountain range merged with this land, silently bore everything.

The empty eye sockets faced that empty space, dark and deep, revealing no emotion.

The winner...

Writes everything.

He sat quietly, as if he intended to sit until... the end of time.