What Happens When The Second Male Lead Powers Up [EN]: Chapter 812

812. Cadence (4)

This isn’t right.

Zibril Diop thought amidst the crowd of what must have been thousands.

“Zibril! Long time no see. How are you, still alive after the war?”

“······.”

“To meet in a place like this. I guess we were meant to be, even if the meaning is a bit different.”

‘This isn’t right.’

“What? No greeting after all this time? Is the fatigue of battle still not gone?”

“······.”

…It’s strange. He frowned and looked up.

The dark night sky felt somehow simple and empty.

It was the time of the sacred ceremony.

Amidst a subtle excitement mixed with the solemnity of suppressing it, the crowd of imperial soldiers and newly integrated citizens surrounded the center of the Pantheon Square.

The man massaged his stiff shoulders and looked to the side.

Only then did the familiar princess come into view.

“······Fatima.”

“Finally acknowledging me. I thought you had forgotten the woman you were once engaged to.”

The dark-skinned beauty chuckled softly and patted his shoulder.

Zibril clearly remembered Fatima, his second fiancée.

He just hadn’t realized she had also participated in this war.

From the beginning, she had no intention of marrying into another family. Instead, she was an audacious princess filled with ambition to inherit the family fortune in place of her sickly sister.

Zibril, who had nothing to lose, willingly became a smokescreen for the amicable sisters.

He had been close to both of them since childhood, so there was no reason not to.

While Fatima’s sister, who wanted to travel for the rest of her life, pretended to be even weaker to persuade her parents, Fatima paraded around with the famous Duke Diop’s fiancé, showing her face at various events to broaden her standing.

After half a year, her father, the head of the count’s family, gave up.

Fatima’s sister stepped down from her position as the heir apparent as soon as she packed her bags and went down to the warm south, and Fatima, who had always been the family’s troublemaker, took her place.

The two happily called off the engagement.

“······Why that expression? Like a salon newbie who’s been dumped for the first time.”

“······.”

It was quite an amusing play. Looking back now, it was childish.

“What, are you really sick or something? Then you should go see the healing priests.”

Fatima, who had been grinning at the joy of meeting a former comrade, wore a serious expression.

Zibril scoffed and shook his head.

“······It’s okay. It’s not that.”

He didn’t need a priest. At least not today.

“Did you take your mana break on time?”

“An 8th-circle mage doesn’t look easy, huh.”

“Ha! Showing off.”

Fatima, who immediately retorted, looked ahead.

The new citizens, each holding a small lantern, were lighting up the twilight.

Between them, a huge spirit was moving silently.

Soon, the sea of lights parted to the left and right, clearing the way, and Iran’s spirit advanced towards the Pantheon, holding something precious in its arms.

Zibril Diop recognized its identity at a glance.

“······.”

-Shhh, your destiny is all over now… Poor child.

Elissa Penetian.

The crown princess’s body was no longer pierced by a scythe, bleeding, or wearing a painful expression.

Behind the spirit, Christiana Penetian was slowly walking with a wreath of mourning.

The middle-aged woman’s face was already empty, devoid of any expression.

Young royals and nobles bowed deeply and followed.

People who had lost the last root of their country were heard crying here and there.

“Hic, sob······.”

『Your Highness, how could Your Highness······. Sob······.』

“······.”

However, Cornelius Penetian was nowhere to be seen.

Zibril tried to figure out whose intention it was, but forcibly cut off his thoughts.

“······His Majesty said he would hold a state funeral, so I wondered how grand it would be, but I didn’t expect it to be this large.”

Fatima, with her arms crossed, quietly admired. The man only agreed inwardly.

It was a funeral held less than a day after accepting the king’s unconditional surrender.

There was no more urgent matter than this, but such a large gathering was usually accompanied by enormous risks.

In the extreme, a counterattack could begin, and there was also the possibility of a reaction from the royal family, nobles, or people.

Despite the clearly existing anxieties, Frederick Licester allowed the ceremony to proceed.

This was a bold decision that simultaneously demonstrated her sincere mourning, her confidence as a conqueror, and her inclusiveness towards the Penetian New Nation.

Zibril inwardly clicked his tongue at his fifth cousin’s capacity.

Perhaps if he had the authority, he would not have made the same decision as her.

“Ah, ah, ah······!”

Soon, the spirit, having reached the main gate of the Pantheon, lowered its posture for a moment to greet someone.

The other party was a short, sturdy, bald priest.

Zibril silently watched her kneeling, beating her chest, and wailing.

Unable to even shout loudly, the people burst into tears instead.

Some collapsed and lost consciousness, while others lay prostrate on the cold floor, weeping.

The magician moved his insensitive gaze here and there.

It was because an inexplicable dissatisfaction kept rising—though he had lived as a playboy all his life, his personality was not even depraved.

“······.”

…I get it. Don’t you guys have something you’re forgetting right now?

He turned the arrow outward, not even knowing what he had forgotten himself.

“Oh, Zibril. Instead of making that face at someone else’s funeral, you should return home with the advance team.”

‘You really don’t look good,’ Fatima said bluntly, unable to watch any longer.

The man momentarily failed to control his wavering emotions.

“Then what about you? Don’t you have something you’ve forgotten?”

What is this?

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Why have I been feeling like this since earlier?

“······.”

Fatima was naturally taken aback. Zibril clicked his tongue instead of answering and swept back his hair.

He couldn’t understand why such an anxious and irritable feeling was consuming his body.

The former lover stared at him for a long time, then patted his broad shoulders once more.

“Yeah, well. You’re not the only one who lost comrades in the war. I’ve sent off several friends too.”

“······I misspoke.”

“If you’re sorry, come find me later. It would be nice to warm each other’s beds.”

Fatima smiled and said, then walked away.

Zibril nodded in greeting and turned his eyes.

Before he knew it, the final procedure of the external public ceremony was underway.

The priest, who had barely finished the benediction [a blessing or prayer], rang a small bell, and Queen Christiana kissed her dead daughter’s forehead.

Then, Cedric Licester, representing the imperial family, stood before the crown princess with a bouquet of white flowers.

The magician carefully observed his expression.

-Young spark.

“······.”

-Do you remember?

The spirit called out to the crown prince in a gentle voice. His dimly sunken gaze turned upward.

The man’s eyes no longer held the same vitality as before.

-If you leave the cave, there will be light.

-Then old memories will spread.

-Like sap, like sunlight, all over your body······.

-Because it was always in the same place.

“······.”

Neither Cedric nor Zibril, nor anyone in the square, understood the meaning of the divine object’s words.

The spirit smiled softly and looked down at the humans.

-You will understand when the moonlight shines in the future.

-Will you give strength to the starving seed eye?

“······.”

The sacred being presented Elissa’s body to the crown prince.

Cedric only rolled his eyes and slowly examined her.

The crown princess, curled up like a fetus, didn’t look like a dead person to anyone.

Her cheeks had a healthy complexion, and her face, which looked as if she were asleep, was very peaceful.

The corners of her lips were also slightly raised, as if she were having a good dream.

There were no traces of bloodstains covering her skin, and the hair that the Queen Mother had personally braided was neat.

Only the traces of the terrible scythe that had pierced her torso were the only clue that she was a deceased person.

The crown prince mourned silently, then raised his left hand and ignited a sacred flame. ‘Whoosh!’

“······.”

-Saaaaaa······!

When he made a gesture of offering the flower flame to the crown princess, the membrane that had been enveloping the deceased’s body for a moment emitted a beige light.

The surprised crowd exclaimed.

“Ooooo······!”

-Sizzle······

Soon, the light subsided, and the membrane that had absorbed the sacred fire turned transparent again.

Cedric looked up at the spirit with an indifferent face.

‘Thank you.’ The horn of the divine object, which greeted him kindly, slowly tilted towards him.

The compassionate fingertips bloomed an amaranth tulip.

-Sizzle, sizzle······

-Pitifully······.

It was then.

“As expected, the moon is not rising.”

“······What?”

He suddenly came to his senses at the familiar voice. Zibril frowned and turned around.

The young prophet was pushing up his glasses and looking at the sky.

The robe with silver embroidery shimmered subtly even in the darkness.

“······The angel of the chief god with six wings descended upon this land in golden light and disappeared with a body containing the moon.”

Modest Bakari said in a stiff voice. Suddenly, what is this······.

“What nonsense is that? Is that also a revelation?”

“The moon is not rising in the night sky, Duke Diop.”

The teenager raised a finger and pointed upwards.

Only then did Zibril realize the true nature of the discomfort he had felt until now.

“······.”

No, he confirmed one of the countless annotations of discomfort.

There really was no moon in the sky.

“Until two days ago, there was a moon in the sky. Today, there should definitely be a waning moon.”

“······.”

He was about to retort that it was just covered by clouds, but Zibril also knew that it wasn’t true.

The Fleur-de-lis [a stylized lily used as a decorative design or symbol] was at the pinnacle of the empire’s astrology.

Bakari, having confirmed his dumbfounded face, cocked his chin haughtily.

“If this is not a temporary phenomenon, the continent may have to prepare for disaster.”

“Hey, little commander. Even if you suddenly tell me that······.”

“I must report to His Majesty. Since you happen to be nearby, please accompany me, Duke.”

“What? Why me······.”

“If you are going to do great things in the future, it is good to have a sense of responsibility in everything.”

“······What?”

How many times is he just asking back?

Before Zibril could say anything, the commander squeezed through the imperial nobles and disappeared.

The magician stared blankly in the direction the prophet had disappeared for a while······.

“······Damn it.”

He helplessly crammed his body into the crowd.

Anyway, he needed something to focus on.

“Hey! Why is that little guy so fast? You said we were going together?”

Whether he wanted it or not, life after the war had already begun.

The man’s amethyst earring sparkled gold for a moment.

*

Even without the moon, the night grew deep.

Late at night, in the emperor’s camp, another person’s tears were flowing.

“Hic, so suddenly······. To think you would leave so suddenly without a word······.”

“······.”

What was placed on the wide wooden table was a small, worn cloth doll.

Frederick, having finished Elissa Penetian’s state funeral, quietly looked down at the traces of the departed.

Isabelle, holding Gaine’s hand, was barely able to support herself.

“Around the end of the battle······. Hana felt His Majesty’s power leaving her body. At first, she just, just thought she was resting in the doll as usual······.”

“······She didn’t come back. I also haven’t felt any energy until now.”

Gaine said quietly, instead of her mother, who couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

The emperor’s rough fingertips briefly touched the doll’s button.

“······Has this ever happened before?”

“······.”

Isabelle shook her head, unable to answer.

New watermarks were constantly left on her white cheeks.

The archbishops, who were assisting the emperor closely, carefully offered their opinions.

“Your Majesty. Earlier, in accordance with the will of His Majesty Hana Lumayan, our priests conducted a large-scale sacred ceremony for the spirits of the desert. At that time, we believed that most of the souls had returned to the side of the chief god and were at rest······.”

“······Considering the spirits that His Majesty Hana had brought to the royal capital, many may have remained on the continent waiting for her.”

“······Waiting for their lord.”

Frederick muttered. The doll, having lost its soul, no longer had any warmth.

“They did not return to rest first, but waited to leave with their lord’s soul······.”

“Having exhausted all of the ancient ether remaining in the vessel, she may have gone to the side of the chief god as she was.”

“······.”

The emperor closed her eyes and prayed silently.

When she opened her eyes again, one more space was empty beside her.

Isabelle trembled and sobbed for a long time.