Danmachi: A Mage's Journey

Chapter 276: Fels the Fool

"Hm... But now, where should I use that request? I'm really worried."

When the group was finally far enough away that the camp could no longer be seen, Kaguya suddenly spoke up.

"You just left without saying anything. Is that really okay? Weren't you furious when they stoned you before?" Her tone was nonchalant, but her sharp gaze flickered sideways.

Lyra, who had kept her expression serious until now, finally relaxed. With no one else around, the corners of her lips curled upward in satisfaction.

"Are you stupid? The whole point was to leave without saying anything. Did you see their faces? They looked like they were being crushed under the weight of guilt. It's a delicious kind of justice, isn't it?"

"Wow... you really are a terrible person." Kaguya muttered, raising the sleeve of her kimono to cover her mouth as though in contempt.

But even behind her sleeve, the faint curve of her lips exposed a hidden smile. She was no different, cut from the same cloth.

"Don't you two go encouraging each other in villainy." Akira complained, his brows twitching as he caught the gleam of gloating in their eyes.

"Hmph, you wouldn't understand." Lyra placed a hand on her waist, her voice smug.

Then, with a sudden shift, she brightened into a radiant smile that belonged to a young girl full of spirit. "And besides, doesn't this make us look more like messengers of justice?"

Kaguya chuckled softly. "Indeed. Although it doesn't suit my personality."

"What you mean is that our goddess is the very symbol of justice, right? And since we're her children, we're the messengers of justice too, aren't we?!" Lyra pressed on triumphantly.

Akira sweatdropped. "If you don't know how to talk properly, just shut up."

"And another thing, since when did you get so close with that girl?" Kaguya added coldly, her sharp gaze narrowing.

Before he could even answer, both women suddenly grabbed at his face and waist.

"W-wait, is that necessary!?" Akira stammered, sweating nervously as he tried to step back.

But the pressure on his sides only tightened.

"Hah, trying to run?" Kaguya's smile turned sharp as ice.

"Hey, why don't you be honest with us, Akira-chan?" Lyra laughed, her fingers ceasing their mischief as she suddenly hugged his arm possessively. "Such misfortune! Husband!"

— — —

"A-aah—!?"

"Wha-what's going on!? Is there anyone there!?"

A deafening roar suddenly split the air, a shockwave erupted out of nowhere.

"Guaaaaaa!"

A magic cannon blast tore through the dark, striking down a cluster of Evilus soldiers and blasting them into the air like rag dolls.

Fels knew that such an action was meaningless, yet he still threw aside the double-layered invisibility cloak concealing him.

"Fels, what's going on?"

"A group of Evilus members were discovered and annihilated. Near the entrance to the sewers."

The transparent veil of magic faded, and in the void, the solemn voice of the city's most ancient god resounded—the voice of Ouranos, speaking through a treasured divine relic.

Fels was not merely a mage. He was the private agent of the Guild's highest deity.

Since the beginning of the Great Struggle, he had moved in secret as Ouranos's subordinate, carrying out the will of the god who ruled Orario from the shadows.

On the night flames engulfed everything, it was Fels who had secretly aided the adventurers. Even after daybreak, he had not stopped moving, working tirelessly without rest.

Four times, he had used enchanted tools to put potential rioters into deep slumber before violence could ignite. He had healed countless wounded, both adventurers and civilians alike, just as Akira had, when even the healers themselves were overwhelmed.

From above, his owl familiar scouted evilus' formation around the massive city wall, relaying intelligence to Finn and the others through the Guild.

And now, following Ouranos's command, Fels was investigating the suspicious depths of Orario's sewers.

"Fels, pay close attention." Ouranos's deep voice warned.

"If their base camp truly lies underground, as I fear, then their defenses will be the tightest. It is possible they are using magic items that conceal their presence even from sight and smell. Do not underestimate them."

These actions, done in secret, cloaked by transparency, unseen by all but their god, meant nothing to the world. But to Fels, they were everything. This was his devotion. A devotion made by a fool who had lost his body and skin, leaving only bones and regret.

Such tasks could only be carried out by one who no longer felt hunger or thirst, whose body no longer required rest. And yet, even knowing this, Fels could not help but falter.

"...Ouranos. Corpses lie at my feet again."

"I am tired of watching others die."

Fels, a sage who had lived for eight hundred years, had witnessed countless deaths. To him, death had become mundane, as familiar as rotting flesh or crumbling bone. His emotions had been worn away long ago.

His mental state had long since diverged from that of ordinary people. In fact, he might already be a slave to his so-called "open-mindedness." Perhaps that was the inevitable fate of those who had seen too much.

"Regret, loneliness, and longing... are staring at me."

But you're wrong. Utterly wrong. If there is truly anyone unmoved by such relentless, brutal massacres, then it can only be a god.

A small elf, her eyes dulled and stripped of light, her tears long since dried, stretched out a trembling hand toward the heavy corpse before her, as if desperately begging for help that would never come.

Why is it that people yearn for "resurrection from the dead"?

Fels remembered. He remembered his own origins, not as the "Fool" he called himself now, but as the arrogant, rebellious mage who once challenged the heavens, only to be shackled by his own sorrow.

A tremor ran through his empty chest, as though an old, long-buried heart still dared to beat. From that hollow, a foolish desire slipped free.

"If... if I were here, if I chanted that useless resurrection magic... could I have saved at least one of them?"

"No."

The answer was merciless.

"I will not allow you to use resurrection magic. I will take away the very life you wish to save."

The voice of the ancient god within the crystal thundered without pause or hesitation.

Strict. Cruel. And yet, there was compassion hidden in its weight, a strange embrace of Fels's powerlessness.

"You act under my divine will. Therefore, the lives that should have been saved were allowed to die. Do not be arrogant, Fels. Your sentimentality is nothing before the cruelty of God."

"For this city of heroes, for the future that the gods desire, devote everything you have."

"...Yes. I understand, Ouranos. I'm sorry. Thank you."

Fels lowered his head. His sorrow was swallowed beneath swaying black robes as he slowly pulled his skeletal hand away from the corpse before him. Instead of tears that could never be shed, he offered gratitude to the god who bore his sins for him.

"It's fine. I'm fine..."

He muttered the words again and again, as if convincing himself. Then he fixed the foolish mask upon his face, the same mask that had allowed him to keep living until now, and raised his head high.

"Let's go."

The devotion of a fool knows no end.