Chương 38: Chapter 37: Velkyne’s Last King

I am no king? The ghost mulled over the words, and a heavy sense of guilt settled on his shoulders. The purple arms that rippled around him went limp, and the ghost himself shook uncontrollably. Yuto took a step toward the ghost. The moment the ghost flinched and looked up at the sound, the Obsidian Dagger dug into him. He was no longer winning. In fact, he was struggling to even block Yuto's attacks now.

The arms that had sought to bring justice against the intruder by means of violence no longer tried to attack Yuto. Actually, this heavy sense of remorse acted like chains on his body, repressing the ghost's ether.

"No... No..." the ghost moaned. To his chagrin, he realized that he had no words to counter this grave robber—this boy. It was true. He had stopped paying attention to his sword techniques after his wife died. He should have kept himself fully trained, ready to protect his people, but he had forgotten what he was meant to do. He had allowed his desolation and despair to drive him out of his mind. Never once had he taken up his weapon again. The boy was different.

His technique was alarmingly beautiful and nearly complete. This was no cheap imitation. The way he utilized his ether, his rhythm, the exquisite balance that he maintained on the tips of his feet, the angle at which he swung his sword, and even the finishing touch to every attack—all of it was superior to his own techniques, even when compared to his heyday, when his wife had still been alive. But how is that possible? Within his maddened and confused mind, the question burned bright and consumed him.

How could a complete stranger, a mere boy, use the royal family's secret skills so flawlessly?

"You... You... Who are you...?" the ghost stammered. He continued to swing his sword over and over again. He was a fool. He did not deserve to be called a king, since he had butchered his own people and his kingdom and offered them up to the Constellations. He did not deserve to be alive. Even in death, his lot should rightfully be eternal torment in the depths of hell. But even this ghost had dearly wanted something at the moment prior to his passing.

As natural disasters of every kind swallowed the land of Velkyne, he had desired above all to leave Velkyne's Treasure, a symbol of the throne and the history of his kingdom, somewhere safe. So he hid it deep underneath the castle, where no robber would ever find it. Even if the chamber was discovered, he had ensured it would never be taken by haunting it himself. The ghost could not help but struggle. Even if this boy somehow had perfect mastery of the royal techniques, he was not royalty.

He could not be allowed to assume ownership of the treasure. Velkyne was dead; that was for certain, as was his family line. That meant nobody would ever deserve the weapon. He preferred that the sword be lost forever in the depths of this wreckage of a kingdom rather than for it to enter the hands of some stranger.

"Aaaah!" the ghost screamed, and stabbed at Yuto's heart. Yuto seemed to know his movements in advance somehow and sidestepped it easily with a turn of the torso. Then he plunged the Obsidian Dagger into the ghost's heart. The ghost could not actually suffer physical damage since it was only a spirit, but the ether that spun around the obsidian blade sent him crashing into the wall. The ghost gasped in pain, and his body shimmered softly. He clutched his chest and stared up at Yuto in disbelief.

The insanity in his eyes slowly faded away, and in their place, bits of rational thought returned.

"You... How did you..." he stammered. The overwhelming need to kill was gone. He sounded miserable and bewildered.

"Those techniques can only be learned by royalty. How is it that you know them better than I do? You are not even a Velkyne! Who taught you these things? Who... who even are you? What gives you the right to punish me for my idiocy, to trample in the dirt my already broken heart?" The ghost pushed himself off the floor with unsteady hands. The film of mania had cleared from his pupils. He took a closer look at Yuto's face. Then he jolted in place, like a silent bolt of lightning had struck his body.

He moaned loudly and panted heavily. He had just recalled an ancient dream. In it, he'd seen the ideal life, the fantasy he had always craved—a child between him and his wife, a wise and precocious son who loved his parents and his people and looked out for the kingdom's future. But that son had never been born. He had only been in the king's dreams.

"Who... Who are you...?" he said, wailing now. He thumped at his chest, begging.

"You come here... try to take a sword that doesn't belong to you..." The sword made of ether melted away. The purple arms that had burdened him faded and dissipated like fog.

"And look at me... with such eyes..." The gaze was cold, relentless, angry. At the same time, his eyes held a deep undercurrent of sadness.

"Tell me... Answer my question, please..." There was a guess forming in his mind. The ghost did not bother to stop and wonder if that guess was the truth, or if it was even possible. It did not matter to him. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Here was someone very like the son he had always wanted, the one to talk him out of his foolishness, the one whose lips he'd wanted to hear the word "Father" from, even just once—the boy from his flights of fancy.

The same unlikely imaginary construct was gazing down at him now, its stare as biting and sharp as any guillotine blade.

"Please..." Ether flowed like tears from the ghost's eyes. Yuto's heart broke at the sight. He closed his eyes.

"I... I am Velkyne's last king," Yuto declared quietly. He waited for the words to spread in the chamber. A short phrase, all in all, but the significance of the words was enough to rattle the ghost.

"Ah... Ahhh...!" the ghost murmured, his gaze trembling. The last king. It wasn't just proof that the boy was a Velkyne. The hefty words, delivered with confidence, could only be said by someone who had carried the weight of the kingdom's history and people. The ghost harked back to his distant dream. He had writhed in pain in bed that night. It had been so warm, so splendid, so unlike the cold reality of his life. The boy who had called him "Father."

It had not been a refuge, a crutch, generated by his unwell mind. Somewhere out there, in this universe, there had been another Luke Velkyne, and he'd had a son. A beautiful son, the culmination of his love for his wife.

"I see... I-I understand now..." the ghost murmured. He gave a low, hollow chuckle. Instead of tears, it was purple ether that trickled down his cheeks. He had been bitter and resentful, convincing himself he would never have destroyed his kingdom if he'd had a son. He had cursed the heavens, telling himself that it was the gods who were to blame for this tragedy. They had refused to give him an heir. The ghost quietly closed his eyes. It was not the lack of a son that had destroyed him.

He had allowed his loneliness and his loss to overwhelm him, to make him forget his duties as a ruler. Now that his mind was rid of the madness that had clouded it, he could not help but admit that the boy's words were correct. At the same time, however, he felt a looming despair. All his desolation had arisen from the fact that he was alone in the world. That he'd never had a child with his wife.

"Your father... Was he a fool, like me?"

"No," Yuto said. This only made the ghost's pain worse. Why me? Why not one of the countless souls who live in this vast world? Why did it have to be me who was doomed to never have a son like him? Despair filled him to the brim, and it overflowed. It became rage, and that rage threatened to tip him over into the pit of madness again.

"Ugh..." The ghost banged his head against the floor and wailed. It was enough to drive any man out of his mind, to see the splendid possibilities that could have been his, materializing before his eyes to punish him for the poor choices he had made. The purple hands had clutched his body again, and now they began to move. Madness was beginning to stir these tokens of his guilt. Yuto's eyes grew pained. The ghost had only just recovered its sanity, but it seemed to be short-lived.

In fact, the madness was returning in full force, with even more ferocity than before. The ghost was becoming something worse than the short-sighted ruler he had been—a twisted, ugly monster. The realization that something he had so wanted had been given to another, another version of him, made him blaze with rage and misery.

"You... You must..." the ghost panted.

"You must cut me down!" he screamed in a raspy voice. The purple hands swelled bizarrely and flew toward the ceiling. They were no longer simply a representation of guilt, jealousy concerning another's happiness, resentment for a life that could not be had, and endless disdain for self. All of these had fused them into a terrible curse.

"If you... do nothing... I will become a curse... that envelops this entire land!" the ghost said. The insanity was returning to his eyes. He clutched at his own neck violently and reached for Yuto with his other hand.

"King... True king of Velkyne... I ask that you pass judgment on me, this ugly simpleton of a ruler... Don't allow me... to taint this nation any longer..." Yuto inhaled. His breath was unsteady. This ghost was not his father. But he could have been. The dreariness and despair that he must have experienced flowed into Yuto's mind. He felt it strongly. But Yuto had to make a choice. He was Velkyne's king.

And if he could show a final bit of mercy to a king who had sinned, it would be to meet his end at the hands of the rightful heir.

"Luke Velkyne," Yuto said. The Void's ether exploded behind him. The Void Hands twisted and combined, resulting in a gigantic scythe.

"I shall now declare my verdict," Yuto said. The bloody tears were back, moistening his cheeks. Yuto walked toward the ghost without any show of hesitation. The ghost shuddered, put both hands on the floor, and kneeled. His eyes were shut.

"I bring against you three charges. First of all, as king, you betrayed the trust of your people and offered up their lives, which were not yours to spend, to the Constellations. Second, you put your personal emotions and loneliness before the safety of your kingdom, effectively putting an end to the history of Velkyne." The Void Scythe traveled above the ghost's head.

"And finally, even though you died, you have become a ghost who still haunts this land and imbues it with its revolting presence." The ghost hung his head. Each word was a jagged knife that sank into his soul. They were reprimands delivered without emotion, a death sentence given by a king.

"I now declare your fate as the rightful heir of Velkyne and its last king." Ether compressed inside the black scythe and vibrated shrilly.

"My punishment is eternal rest. Disappear from this hellish life and take your sins with you." The ghost moaned, and a peaceful smile appeared on his face. Though his eyes were still tinted with lunacy, the ether tears that had welled up inside them shone. The ghost craned his neck out willingly in acceptance of his fate.

"Thank you..." he said. Yuto bit his lip hard. Then he moved the scythe. The blade swooped through the neck, and the ghost began to melt away into white specks of light. The purple hands, the curses and guilt that had bound him, shattered like glass. The ghost's mind was fading out. He whispered a final goodbye to Yuto—and though there was no voice, Yuto read the words on his lips. My son... With that, it was over. The ghost of the foolish monarch, driven mad by his isolation, was no more.

Yuto clenched his fists and watched the rest of him disperse.