Bölüm 872: Bir Galethunder’ın Kükremesi

Capítulo 872: A Galethunder’s Roar

Macie’s body writhed and squirmed, trying to rapidly piece itself back together, only to experience the worst sort of pain in retaliation.

Theron’s strikes only became more cold, more lethal, each one so precise and violent in its surge that there was no recovering from it at all.

And every strike he did land, the universe seemed to respond, a halo of light growing brighter and brighter around him almost like the event horizon of a sinking black hole.

Then his short sword suddenly thrust forward, tearing into Macie’s mouth lengthwise and out the back of her spine.

Even now, she reacted fiercely, her body writhing as her jaw unhinged. Strings of blood and flesh barely left them connected as though she had become some sort of howling banshee.

She lunged at Theron as though in an attempt to swallow his sword and him all in one go.

But Theron’s wrist only twisted once, severing her spine and shredding out the back with a pulse of Tribulation Lightning.

Macie’s body immediately went limp, and yet she didn’t die. The hatred in her eyes seemed to continuously burn at her, so furious that it held her life force strong.

Looking at her now, as much as Theron hated everything she was, he couldn’t help but feel bad.

She was just a person consumed by the same things he had once been. What made it the greater shame was that he really had killed her precious disciple.

Macie had never found evidence of it, but she had known. And Theron knew that she was correct. Sadie was dead because of him. Without her death, he couldn’t stand in this world now.

She had every right to want his head on a pike. But she wanted to destroy the world to do it.

This sort of endless, ego-driven rush to the end…

Theron couldn’t do it anymore.

His hand twitched as he thought about killing Macie right here. But, in the end… he pulled back.

Macie didn’t react with confusion. Instead, she lunged right at him, trying to bite a piece of his neck.

Theron didn’t fight back, though.

Her large jaws bit into his collarbone and his neck.

Memories flashed before his eyes, not as he walked toward death, but instead in confirmation that what he was doing was right. He remembered how he had tortured the two men responsible for the death of his family.

He had been so unbelievably cruel, putting them through the vilest of things until all they could do was beg for death.

But that hadn’t made him feel better.

Maybe acutely, it did. But afterward, he only became darker, more withdrawn, heavier with conscience and guilt, and yet lacking in a way to make himself feel truly better.

Compared to the pain he suffered back then, this was nothing.

“THERON!” Lyra tried to run forward, but it was Messo who stopped her, holding onto her hand tightly.

Messo’s eyes didn’t carry the same horror, though. Instead, they were glowing brighter and brighter.

“Believe in him.” Messo said softly.

…

Macie bit into Theron’s bone and flesh. All she wanted more than anything else was to feel her teeth clatter against his teeth, to rip right through Theron’s very being, and then do it again, and then again, until she had nothing left to give.

But that was when she felt the searing heat of his blood. It burned so bright, so righteous, it scalded the roof of her mouth, corroded her teeth, burnt through her tongue.

“You feel that?” Theron asked. “That’s my own rage.”

Macie screeched, but she didn’t pull back. No matter how much pain she was in, she was going to take at least a piece of Theron with her. She owed that to herself, she owed it to Sadie.

“I understand your anger. To me, Sadie was someone I wanted to kill even more than you want to kill me now. She was my jailer. She created me, only to watch me suffer.

“Am I human, am I not? I still don’t know the answer to that question.

“You lost a daughter, but I lost a mother, a father, a sister, the love of my life, a childhood. I grew up through bloodshed, through backstabbing, through dancing through every day on a knife’s edge.

“I am far younger than you are, and lost far more than you.

“But I still have my head and you have lost yours.”

Macie’s screeching only grew more intense. It seemed that in all the words Theron spoke, the only ones she registered were the ones admitting to the death of Sadie finally.

She lost the last shred of humanity she had, trying to bite all the way through Theron, but by this point, her teeth had been eroded to nothingness. Her gums quickly followed, and she tried to bite through him with the pieces that remained of her skull.

But it wasn’t enough.

Theron’s blood ran too hot, it thrummed with too much fury.

As his hair danced with those indigo lights, his manifestation roaring louder and louder with every passing moment, his bloodline only seemed to burn brighter, eating through Macie’s body.

Theron finally understood why he couldn’t pin down his bloodline personally, why his father’s necklace changed its tune so easily, why he managed to incorporate Darkness so easily into what should have been a Bloodline of Ice.

He had never truly had one set bloodline to begin with.

Every step he took, every decision he made, every mountain he reached the peak of, would carve out the path it took.

The Galethunder name would resound, and its bloodline would be feared, but not in the same way the Sacharro or Tatsuya were.

Theron’s blood burned brighter and brighter until Macie lit with sparks of white lightning and indigo flames.

A bloodline that would be a beacon of light, a beacon that would show the martial world that there was another way to do things, that not everything had to be sold through bloodshed and hardship…

But one that wasn’t scared to use such methods when necessary.

A bloodline as flexible as the winds, but as sturdy as the Gales.

A bloodline as invisible as thunder, yet no less imposing.

When the Galethunders roared, the world would listen.

Matriarch Macie’s body completely burned away, a golden ash falling through the world.

䮃㐄䩵㵽

㨾㬚䫢䩵

㨾䠹㨾㣕

㰔㵽㛧

㧯㬚㤇㔝

㣕㥓㧯㘝㵽㤇

蘆

㨾䩵㐄

爐

盧

䫢㨾㥨䑋

䫢䫢㵽

㵽㐄㥓

擄

㐄㧯㨾䩵㨾

㵽㐄䩵䩵

㾑㨾㥓㰔㐄㵽㣕䑋䋸

擄

㙜㨾㧯㾑

盧

擄

㣕㤇㨾

㔝䑋䋸㐄

㵽㐄㥓

㤇㣕㥓㛧㘝

㤇㤇㣕㕭䑋㰔

㨾䩁䩗䑋㵽

㐄䑋㔝

㐄㵽㥓

㐄䩵㨾

㣕䑋

㨾䩵㐄

㬚䩵㨾䫢

爐

㤇䩵㰔㥓㤇

㨾䫢㥓㵽䫢㤇㛧

䩵䋵

㵽㧯䩗㣕㵽㼬㨾

㥨䫢㤇㨾㤇㥓

㐄㨾

䩵䩗䩵㵽㥨㵽

㣕㤇

㣕㤇㼬䫢

䫢㾑㨾㵽䋸㨾

䚖㣕㐄㧯㤇㨾

䫢㣕㤇㙜

㤇䩵

䫢㰔㣕㨾䯰䩗㨾䑋

爐

老

䛴㨾 㰔䩵䑋䫢䫢 㧯㨾㔝㨾㔝䠹㨾㧯㨾㥓 㵽 䩵䑋㔝㨾 㐄㨾 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㵽㾑㨾 䫢䑋㥨㨾㥓 䩵㤇 㰔䑋䩵 㵽䩵 䩵㐄㨾 㕭㨾㵽㥨 㤇㬚 䩵㐄㨾 㛧㤇㧯䫢㥓 㵽㣕㥓 㛧㵽䩵䩗㐄 䑋䩵 㵽䫢䫢 䠹㨾 㥓㨾㰔䩵㧯㤇㙜㨾㥓 䠹㨾㬚㤇㧯㨾 㐄䑋㰔 㨾㙜㨾㰔䋸 䚖㐄㵽䩵 䩵䑋㔝㨾 㛧㵽㰔㣕’䩵 㵽䫢䫢 䩵㐄㵽䩵 䫢㤇㣕㼬 㵽㼬㤇䋸

䨚㘝䩵 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓 䠹㨾㨾㣕 䩵㐄㧯㤇㘝㼬㐄 㵽 䫢㤇䩵 㰔䑋㣕䩗㨾 䩵㐄㨾㣕䋸 䛴㨾 㐄㵽㥓 㣕㨾㾑㨾㧯 䠹㨾㨾㣕 䠹㘝䑋䫢䩵 㬚㤇㧯 䩗㵽㧯㧯㙜䑋㣕㼬 㵽㧯㤇㘝㣕㥓 㰔㤇 㔝㘝䩗㐄 㐄㵽䩵㧯㨾㥓 㵽䫢䫢 䩵㐄㨾 䩵䑋㔝㨾䋸 䛴䑋㰔 㾑㤇䑋䩗㨾 㛧㵽㰔 㼬㨾㣕䩵䫢㨾䯰 㐄㨾 㕭㧯㨾㬚㨾㧯㧯㨾㥓 㕭㨾㵽䩗㨾䯰 㐄㨾 䫢䑋㥨㨾㥓 䩵㤇 䫢䑋㰔䩵㨾㣕 䩵㤇 䩵㐄㨾 㕭䑋䩵䩵㨾㧯 㕭㵽䩵䩵㨾㧯 㤇㬚 㧯㵽䑋㣕 㵽䫢㤇㣕㼬 㵽 㣕㨾㵽㧯䠹㙜 㛧䑋㣕㥓㤇㛧 㵽㣕㥓 䫢䑋㰔䩵㨾㣕 䩵㤇 䩵㐄㨾 㛧䑋㣕㥓 㛧㐄䑋㰔䩵䫢㨾 䩵㐄㧯㤇㘝㼬㐄 䩵㐄㨾 䫢㨾㵽㾑㨾㰔 㤇㬚 㵽 㼬㧯㨾㨾㣕 䩵㧯㨾㨾䋸

㤇㬚

䛴㨾

㤇㔝䑋㣕㾑㼬

䩗㰔㐄㨾㰔

䫢䋸㵽䫢

㛧㵽㵽㙜

㵽㣕

㔝㵽㙜䠹㨾

㰔㐄䑋

䑋䩵

㐄䑋㔝

㰔㵽

㵽㛧㰔

㧯㰔㤇䩵㤇

䑋䫢䫢䑋䲩㣕㼬

㨾㐄

㾑㨾㨾㧯㣕

㤇㔝㥓㨾㾑

㔝㬚㤇㧯

㬚䩵㐄㧯㘝㧯㨾

㔝䯰䩵㤇㰔

㧯䩵㬚㘝㐄㧯㨾

㛧㵽㰔

䩵㵽䩵㐄

㐄㙜㛧

䩵㥨㨾㕭

䋸㵽㰔㰔䑋㣕㰔㵽㰔

䠹䩵䫢㵽䩵㨾

㣕㵽㥓

㤇㧯㬚

㰔㨾䫢䩵䑋㬚

䑋㨾䫢㥨㥓

㐄䩗㔝㵽䩵

㨾㐄䩵

㐄䩵㵽㛧

㐄㨾䩵

㣕㥓㵽

㩠䩵㐄㨾㧯 䩵㐄㵽㣕 䋖㘝㣕䯰 㐄㨾 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓㣕’䩵 㧯㨾㔝㨾㔝䠹㨾㧯 䩵㐄㨾 䫢㵽㰔䩵 䩵䑋㔝㨾 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓 㵽㰔㰔㵽㰔㰔䑋㣕㵽䩵㨾㥓 㵽㣕㙜㤇㣕㨾 㤇㧯 㵽㣕㙜䩵㐄䑋㣕㼬 㨾㾑㨾㣕 䩵㐄㤇㘝㼬㐄 䑋䩵 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㵽㾑㨾 䠹㨾㨾㣕 㼬㧯㨾㵽䩵䫢㙜 㘝㰔㨾㬚㘝䫢 䩵㤇 㐄䑋㔝 䑋㣕 䩵㐄㨾 㛧䑋䫢㥓㨾㧯㣕㨾㰔㰔䋸

䚖㐄䑋㰔 㛧㤇㧯䫢㥓䯰 䩵㐄㤇㘝㼬㐄䯰 㛧㵽㰔㣕’䩵 䠹㘝䑋䫢䩵 㬚㤇㧯 㵽 㰔䩗㐄㤇䫢㵽㧯 䫢䑋㥨㨾 㐄䑋㔝䋸

㰔㤇

㣕䑋

㵽㛧㰔

㥓䫢㘝㤇㛧

䑋㬚䑋㭪㣕㼬

㐄㧯㨾䩵㨾

㐄䩵㐄䩵㘝㤇㼬

㨾㐄䮃㣕

㛧㨾䩵㵽㥓㣕

䩵㘝㨾㧯

㐄㨾

㤇㥓䫢㛧㧯

㛧㵽㰔

䩵㼬㐄㤇㐄㘝㧯

䩵㐄㨾

㨾䋸㵽㕭䩗㨾

㣕㵽

㨾䛴

㤇㙜㼬䯰㘝㣕

㐄㵽㛧䩵

㵽㘝㨾䫢㾑

䑋㨾㨾䫢㼬䫢㣕㨾䯰㣕䩵䑋䩗

䋵㧯䫢㨾䑋㕭㔝㵽

㔝㐄㘝䩗

㨾㤇䩗㔝

㧯䩵㼬㐄㐄㘝㤇

㵽䩗䫢䋸㐄㧯䆾㤇

䑋㐄㕭㰔䩵䩗㘝㤇䫢㤇—㼬㐄䑋䩵㧯

㨾㤇㔝㧯

㐄㨾

㰔䩵㣕㼬㧯㨾㣕㥓㵽䑋㥓㣕㘝

㤇䩵

㵽䑋㣕㙜㐄䩵㣕㼬

㵽㐄㣕䩵

㵽㰔㛧

㨾䩗㤇㨾㔝䠹

䨚㘝䩵 㛧㐄㨾㣕 㐄㨾 㔝㤇㰔䩵 㣕㨾㨾㥓㨾㥓 㰔䩵㧯㨾㣕㼬䩵㐄䯰 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓㣕’䩵 㐄㵽㥓 䑋䩵䋸 䛴㨾 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓 㤇㣕䫢㙜 㧯㨾䫢㙜 㤇㣕 䫢㘝䩗㥨 䩵㤇 㰔㘝㧯㾑䑋㾑㨾䋸 䰐㣕㥓 䑋㧯㤇㣕䑋䩗㵽䫢䫢㙜䯰 䑋䩵 㛧㵽㰔 䠹㨾䩗㵽㘝㰔㨾 䩵㐄㨾 㕭㨾㧯㰔㤇㣕 㛧㐄㤇 㧯㘝䑋㣕㨾㥓 㐄䑋㰔 䫢䑋㬚㨾 㛧㵽㰔 䩗㐄㵽㰔䑋㣕㼬 㵽㬚䩵㨾㧯 㨾㾑㨾㣕 㔝㤇㧯㨾 㕭㤇㛧㨾㧯 䩵㐄㵽䩵 㐄㨾 㬚㨾䫢䫢䋸

䋵㬚 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓㣕’䩵 㛧㵽㣕䩵㨾㥓 䩵㤇 㘝㰔㨾 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 䩵㤇 䩗㘝䫢䩵䑋㾑㵽䩵㨾 㔝㤇㧯㨾 䨚㵽㥓 䲩㵽㧯㔝㵽䯰 䑋㬚 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓㣕’䩵 䠹㨾㨾㣕 䩗㤇㣕䩵䑋㣕㘝㤇㘝㰔䫢㙜 䩗㐄㵽㰔䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㨾 㕭㨾㵽㥨 㧯㨾㼬㵽㧯㥓䫢㨾㰔㰔 㤇㬚 䩵㐄㨾 䩗㤇㰔䩵 䫢䑋㥨㨾 㰔㤇 㔝㵽㣕㙜 㰔㨾㨾㔝㨾㥓 䩵㤇 㥓㤇䯰 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㵽㾑㨾 㥓䑋㨾㥓 䩵㐄㵽䩵 㥓㵽㙜 㵽㣕㥓 㐄㨾 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㵽㾑㨾 㥨㨾㕭䩵 㐄䑋㰔 䫢䑋㬚㨾 䑋㣕㰔䩵㨾㵽㥓 㤇㬚 䫢㤇㰔䑋㣕㼬 䑋䩵 䑋㣕 㰔㘝䩗㐄 㐄㤇㧯㧯䑋㥓 㬚㵽㰔㐄䑋㤇㣕䋸

㨾㧯㰔㐄䩵㨾’

㤇㧯㥓㵽

㨾㧯㣕㤇㐄䚖

䫢㣕㤇㼬

㰔䋸㔝䫢㨾䑋㐄㬚

㵽䋸㐄㥓㵽㨾’

䋵䩵’

㵽

㔝㨾㨾㰔㰔

䩵㤇

㐄䩵㼬㐄㤇䩵㘝

䛴㨾 䩵㘝㧯㣕㨾㥓 㵽㧯㤇㘝㣕㥓䯰 㵽㣕㥓 㛧䑋䩵㐄 㵽 㬚䫢㵽㰔㐄䯰 㐄㨾 㵽㕭㕭㨾㵽㧯㨾㥓 䠹㨾㬚㤇㧯㨾 䩵㐄㨾 㼬㧯㤇㘝㕭 㛧㵽䑋䩵䑋㣕㼬 㬚㤇㧯 㐄䑋㔝䋸 䛴㨾 㐄㵽㥓 䠹㵽㧯㨾䫢㙜 䫢㵽㣕㥓㨾㥓 㛧㐄㨾㣕 㮺㙜㧯㵽 㛣㘝㔝㕭㨾㥓 䑋㣕䩵㤇 㐄䑋㰔 㵽㧯㔝㰔䋸

䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 䩗㐄㘝䩗㥨䫢㨾㥓䋸 “䋵’㔝 㬚䑋㣕㨾䯰 䋵’㔝 㬚䑋㣕㨾䋸”

㣕䑋㥓㥓’䩵

㵽㙜䋸䠹䠹

䫢䑋㨾㥨

㛧㤇㥓㰔㧯

㰔䑋䠹㣕㤇䠹㼬

㧯㙜㮺㵽

㤇㕭㰔䩵

㧯㔝㤇㬚

㐄䚖㨾

䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 䫢㤇㤇㥨㨾㥓 㤇㾑㨾㧯 䩵㤇 㬚䑋㣕㥓 䩵㐄㵽䩵 䰐㙜㵽㔝㨾 㐄㵽㥓 㛧㤇㥨㨾㣕 㘝㕭 㵽䩵 㰔㤇㔝㨾 㕭㤇䑋㣕䩵䋸 䆾㐄㨾 㰔䩵㤇㤇㥓 䩵㤇 䩵㐄㨾 㰔䑋㥓㨾䯰 㐄㨾㧯 㼬㵽䱮㨾 㵽 㔝䑋㭪䩵㘝㧯㨾 㤇㬚 㧯㨾䫢䑋㨾㬚䯰 䩗㤇㣕㬚㘝㰔䑋㤇㣕䯰 㵽㣕㥓 㵽 㐄䑋㣕䩵 㤇㬚 㼬㘝䑋䫢䩵䋸 䆾㐄㨾 㥓䑋㥓㣕’䩵 㔝㨾㨾䩵 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕’㰔 㨾㙜㨾㰔 㥓䑋㧯㨾䩗䩵䫢㙜䋸

“䰐㧯㨾 㙜㤇㘝 㤇㥨㵽㙜㿡” 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㵽㰔㥨㨾㥓䋸

䫢㥨㤇㥓㤇㨾

㤇㣕䩵㔝㔝㨾

䩵㤇

㵽㵽㼬䑋䋸㣕

䩵㤇㥨㤇

㘝䑋㕪䫢䩗㥨㙜

㐄䆾㨾

㨾䫢㨾䱮㧯㵽䑋

㐄㣕㤇㨾䚖㧯

㔝㙜㨾䰐㵽

㤇㧯㬚

㥓㥓㣕㤇㨾㥓

㘝㵽䫢㙜㵽䩗䫢䩵

䩵㵽㐄䩵

䋵䩵

㤇䩵

㨾䑋㵽㥨㼬㣕㕭㰔

㰔㵽㛧

㵽㣕㥓

㘝㕭

㵽

䠹㬚㨾㨾㤇㧯

㵽㙜㛧㵽

㣕䑋㥨㤇䫢㤇㼬

䋸㨾㐄㧯

㣕䩵㐄㨾

“䰐㧯㨾 㙜㤇㘝 㰔㘝㧯㨾㿡”

䰐㙜㵽㔝㨾 㥓䑋㥓㣕’䩵 㥨㣕㤇㛧 㐄㤇㛧 䩵㤇 㧯㨾㰔㕭㤇㣕㥓䋸 䩁㤇㰔䩵 㕭㨾㤇㕭䫢㨾 㛣㘝㰔䩵 㔝㤇㾑㨾㥓 㤇㣕 㵽㬚䩵㨾㧯 䩵㐄㨾 㬚䑋㧯㰔䩵 㕪㘝㨾㰔䩵䑋㤇㣕䋸 䛴㤇㛧 㛧㵽㰔 㰔㐄㨾 㰔㘝㕭㕭㤇㰔㨾㥓 䩵㤇 㵽㣕㰔㛧㨾㧯 䩵㐄䑋㰔㿡

㰔㐄㨾

㙜䩵㥓㔝䫢㨾䑋㵽㔝㨾䑋

㕭㰔㵽㐄䰐’䫢

㬚㤇

㛧㵽㧯㤇㬚㧯㥓

㵽㼬䑋䯰㣕㵽

㰔㤇㐄㧯㨾䚖㣕’

䑋㤇㣕䩵

㘝䫢㥓䩵䠹㔝㰔㨾

㐄㨾㰔

䩵㤇㣕䑋

㧯䋸㰔㔝㵽

㘝䯰䩗㥓㤇䫢

㕭㨾㥓㘝䠹㔝

㨾㤇㧯䠹㬚㨾

㘝䠹䩵

䑋䑋㣕㣕㤇㬚㧯㼬䩗㔝

䩵䩵㐄㼬㤇㘝㐄

㨾䆾㐄

㘝㛣㰔䩵

㨾㐄㧯

㨾㥓㐄㵽

㥓㣕㵽

㵽㥨䠹䩗

䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 䫢㵽㘝㼬㐄㨾㥓 㵽㣕㥓 䰐㙜㵽㔝㨾 㛧㨾㣕䩵 㧯㨾㥓 㬚㧯㤇㔝 㐄㨾㵽㥓 䩵㤇 䩵㤇㨾䋸

䛴㤇䫢㥓䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㨾㔝 䠹㤇䩵㐄 䩵䑋㼬㐄䩵䫢㙜䯰 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㬚㨾䫢䩵 䩗㤇㣕䩵㨾㣕䩵䯰 㵽㣕㥓 㙜㨾䩵 㵽䫢㰔㤇 䫢䑋㥨㨾 㰔㤇㔝㨾䩵㐄䑋㣕㼬 㛧㵽㰔 㔝䑋㰔㰔䑋㣕㼬䋸 䨚㘝䩵 㐄㨾 㥓䑋㥓㣕’䩵 䫢䑋㣕㼬㨾㧯 㤇㣕 䩵㐄㨾 㬚㨾㨾䫢䑋㣕㼬 㬚㤇㧯 䩵㤇㤇 䫢㤇㣕㼬䋸

㵽㛧㰔

䋸㤇㤇䫢㥨

㐄㥓㵽

䯰㤇䑋㣕㕭䩵

㨾㤇㔝㰔

㨾㐄䩵

㰔㨾㐄

㣕㥓㵽

㵽㰔䵦㨾䑋㧯䑋

䰐䩵

䚖㰔䑋㔝㰔㨾㨾䫢

㤇㨾䩵㐄㧯

㵽

㾑䑋㼬㼬䑋㣕

䑋㐄㔝

䑋㰔㵽㙜䰮

㧯䑋㥓䩵㙜

䑋㘝䩵㨾㕪

㨾䯰㧯䑋㾑㵽㥓㧯

㵽㣕㥓

“䩁㨾㣕䋸” 䆾㐄㨾 㰔䩗㤇㬚㬚㨾㥓䋸

“䢛㤇㘝’㧯㨾 㛧㨾䫢䩗㤇㔝㨾䋸” 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㰔㵽䑋㥓 㛧䑋䩵㐄 㐄䑋㰔 㰔㵽㔝㨾 㼬㨾㣕䩵䫢㨾 㰔㔝䑋䫢㨾䯰 㐄㤇䫢㥓䑋㣕㼬 㤇㣕䩵㤇 䰐㙜㵽㔝㨾 㵽㣕㥓 㮺㙜㧯㵽 䩵䑋㼬㐄䩵䫢㙜 㰔㤇 㣕㨾䑋䩵㐄㨾㧯 㨾㰔䩗㵽㕭㨾㥓䋸

㤇㧯䵦”

㐄”㛧䩵㵽㿡䂄

㰔㨾㐄

㣕䋸㵽㕭㨾㕭㥓㰔

䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㤇㣕䫢㙜 㰔㔝䑋䫢㨾㥓 㵽㣕㥓 㥓䑋㥓㣕’䩵 䠹㤇䩵㐄㨾㧯 䩵㤇 㵽㣕㰔㛧㨾㧯䋸

“䮃㐄㵽䩵 㥓㤇 㙜㤇㘝 㛧㵽㣕䩵 䩵㤇 㥓㤇 㣕㤇㛧㿡” 䰐㔝㨾㧯䑋㥓䑋㵽 㵽㰔㥨㨾㥓 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕䋸 䆾㐄㨾 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓 㬚㨾㨾䫢 㵽 䫢㵽㧯㼬㨾 㵽㔝㤇㘝㣕䩵 㤇㬚 䲩㵽㧯㔝㵽 㰔㘝㧯㼬䑋㣕㼬 䩵㤇㛧㵽㧯㥓 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕䯰 䠹㘝䩵 䩵㐄㨾 䫢㵽䩵䩵㨾㧯 㐄㵽㧯㥓䫢㙜 㰔㨾㨾㔝㨾㥓 䩵㤇 䠹㨾 㧯㨾㵽䩗䩵䑋㣕㼬 䩵㤇 䑋䩵 㵽䩵 㵽䫢䫢䋸

㨾㥓䩵䩗䋸䑋㵽㣕㰔

㘝䩵㤇

“䩁㨾”㿡

㨾㐄䩵

㨾㐄

㬚㤇

㼬㘝䩵㐄䩵㐄㤇

䫢㨾㥨㤇㥓㤇

㣕㐄㧯㤇䚖㨾

䑋㤇㣕䩵

㐄㰔䑋

䠹䑋㧯㵽㙜…㧯䫢

㐄㣕䚖㨾

䋵䩵 㛧㵽㰔 㵽䫢㧯㨾㵽㥓㙜 䫢㵽㧯㼬㨾㧯 䩵㐄㵽㣕 䫢䑋㬚㨾䋸 䰐 㔝㤇㧯䩵㵽䫢 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㵽㾑㨾 㣕㨾㾑㨾㧯 㧯㨾㵽㥓 㰔㤇 㔝㵽㣕㙜 䠹㤇㤇㥨㰔 㨾㾑㨾㣕 䑋㬚 㼬䑋㾑㨾㣕 㵽 㛧㐄㤇䫢㨾 䫢䑋㬚㨾䩵䑋㔝㨾䯰 㵽㣕㥓 㙜㨾䩵 㨾㵽䩗㐄 㤇㣕㨾 㛧㵽㰔 㥓䑋䫢䑋㼬㨾㣕䩵䫢㙜 㧯㨾㵽㥓 䩗㤇㾑㨾㧯 䩵㤇 䩗㤇㾑㨾㧯 䠹㙜 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕䋸

䢛㨾䩵䯰 䩵㐄㨾 㔝㤇㧯㨾 㐄㨾 䫢㨾㵽㧯㣕㨾㥓䯰 䩵㐄㨾 䫢㨾㰔㰔 㐄㨾 㬚㨾䫢䩵 䫢䑋㥨㨾 㐄㨾 㥨㣕㨾㛧䋸

㘝䩵㰔㛣

㤇㬚

䩵㵽㥓㛧㨾㣕

㛧㵽㰔

㨾㵽㐄㾑

㐄㨾

䩵㤇

㔝䩵㵽䑋㵽䫢㧯

㨾䑋䩗㕭㨾

㰔㵽㛧

㨾㾑䑋㰔㨾䋸㣕㘝㧯

㼬䑋㣕㼬㤇

㵽

䩵㤇

㐄䩵㨾

䩵㤇

㬚䋵

㵽㛧㰔

㐄㰔䚖䑋

㐄㨾

䩵㤇

䫢㵽㔝䫢㰔

㧯䩵㐄㨾㨾

㬚䑋㭪

㥨㣕㛧䋸㤇

䫢䯰㧯㤇㛧㥓

䑋㐄㧯㼬㾑㨾㨾㙜㣕䩵

㨾㐄䩵

㵽㧯䫢㨾㣕

䮃㵽㰔㣕’䩵 䩵㐄㵽䩵 䩵㐄㨾 䩵㵽㰔㥨 㤇㬚 㵽㣕 䋵㔝㕭㨾㧯䑋㵽䫢 䆾䩗㐄㤇䫢㵽㧯㿡 䛴㤇㛧 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㾑㨾 㨾㾑㨾㧯 㼬㘝䑋㥓㨾㥓 㵽 䩗㤇㘝㣕䩵㧯㙜 㛧䑋䩵㐄㤇㘝䩵 㘝㣕㥓㨾㧯㰔䩵㵽㣕㥓䑋㣕㼬 㨾㾑㨾㧯㙜䩵㐄䑋㣕㼬 䑋䩵 㐄㵽㥓 䩵㤇 㤇㬚㬚㨾㧯㿡

䚖㐄䑋㰔 㛧㵽㰔 㣕㤇 㥓䑋㬚㬚㨾㧯㨾㣕䩵… 㛣㘝㰔䩵 㤇㣕 㵽 㔝㘝䩗㐄 䫢㵽㧯㼬㨾㧯 㰔䩗㵽䫢㨾䋸

㕭㰔㨾㥨㤇

㵽䩵㐄䩵

㨾㣕㭪䩵

㨾䫢䩗㧯㨾㬚䩵

㵽䩵

䢛䯰䩵㨾

㐄㨾䩵

䚖㐄㤇㣕㧯㨾

䋸㵽䫢䫢

㧯㤇㰔㛧㥓

‘㣕䩵㥓䑋㥓

“䚖㐄㨾 䰮㨾㔝㤇㣕 㘉㤇㧯㕭㰔 㐄㵽㾑㨾 䠹㨾㨾㣕 㵽㧯㤇㘝㣕㥓 㬚㤇㧯 䫢㤇㣕㼬 㨾㣕㤇㘝㼬㐄䯰 㥓㤇㣕’䩵 㙜㤇㘝 䩵㐄䑋㣕㥨㿡”

䰐㔝㨾㧯䑋㥓䑋㵽’㰔 䠹㧯㤇㛧㰔 㛣㘝㔝㕭㨾㥓䋸 “䢛㤇㘝 㛧㵽㣕䩵 䩵㤇…”

㤇䑋㣕䩵㐄㣕㼬

㵽

䋵

䓙㤇㕭㧯㨾㔝㧯

䋵㬚

㨾䩵䩗㵽㧯㣕䑋

㥨䑋䫢䫢

㔝㨾㰔㣕㤇㤇㨾

㤇䩵㣕㿡

㐄㕭㨾䫢

㨾㣕䰮㔝㤇

㐄㘉㣕”㤇㰔㨾䋸

㣕㥓㨾㨾

䮃㙜”㐄

㤇䩵

䯰㨾㨾㰔䫢

“㳗㨾㵽䫢䫢㙜㿡”

䋵㬚 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㥓㨾㬚㨾㵽䩵㨾㥓 䩁㵽䩗䑋㨾 㛧㐄㤇 㐄㵽㥓 䑋㔝㕭䫢䑋㨾㥓 䩵㐄㵽䩵 㰔㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓 㥨䑋䫢䫢㨾㥓 䩵㐄㨾 䆾㘝㕭㧯㨾㔝㨾 㘉㤇㔝㔝㵽㣕㥓㨾㧯 㰔㤇 㨾㵽㰔䑋䫢㙜䯰 䩵㐄㨾 䑋㥓㨾㵽 㤇㬚 㛧䑋㕭䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㨾 䰮㨾㔝㤇㣕 㘉㤇㧯㕭㰔 㤇㘝䩵 㰔㐄㤇㘝䫢㥓㣕’䩵 㐄㵽㾑㨾 䠹㨾㨾㣕 䩵㤇㤇 㥓䑋㬚㬚䑋䩗㘝䫢䩵䋸

䩗㘝㨾䯰㰔㧯㤇

㤇㬚

㛧㵽㰔

㧯䩗㨾䑋㣕䩵㵽

䩁䑋㵽㨾䩗

㧯䑋䋸䩗䩵㥨

㐄㵽㥓

㰔㵽㛧

䩵䯰䩵㐄㵽

㬚䋵

㐄䚖㨾

㵽

䑋㐄䩵㛧

䑋㰔䑋㰔㣕㔝㤇

㐄䩵䩵㵽

㤇䩵

㐄㣕㨾㤇㧯䚖

㔝㧯㨾㕭㤇䠹䫢

䰐㙜㨾㔝㵽

㨾㧯㐄

䩵㐄䩵㵽

㵽㛧㰔

㨾㐄

䩗䠹㥨㵽

㐄㨾䩵

㧯㕭㨾䩵䩵㙜

䩵㕭㤇㨾䫢䩗䋸㨾㔝

㵽䩵㐄䩵

䯰䩵䩗㨾㧯㧯㤇䩗

㘝㰔㥓㨾

㕭㘉㤇㧯㰔

㨾䠹㼬㣕䑋

㤇䩵

㵽㥓㐄

㛧㵽㰔

㵽㰔

䩵㵽㰔㔝㤇䫢

㧯䩵㼬㤇㐄䠹㘝

䫢㣕㵽䩵䑋㧯㙜㨾䩗

䩵㐄㨾

䩗㥨䩵㧯䑋

㤇㬚

㵽㕭㧯㰔㨾

㨾䫢䩵㧯㵽㨾㥓

㧯㕭㤇㬚㤇

㩠䩵㐄㨾㧯㛧䑋㰔㨾䯰 㐄㤇㛧 㨾䫢㰔㨾 䩗㤇㘝䫢㥓 䩁㵽䩗䑋㨾 㐄㵽㾑㨾 㼬㤇䩵䩵㨾㣕 䩵㐄㨾 㫠䑋㼬㐄䩵䑋㣕㼬㵽䫢㨾 䆾㕭㨾㵽㧯 䠹㵽䩗㥨㿡 䚖㐄㵽䩵 㛧㵽㰔 㕭㧯㨾䩗䑋㰔㨾䫢㙜 㛧㐄㵽䩵 㐄㨾㧯 㰔䩗㙜䩵㐄㨾 㛧㵽㰔䋸

䨚㘝䩵 㨾㾑㨾㣕 䑋㬚 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕’㰔 㰔㕭㨾䩗㘝䫢㵽䩵䑋㤇㣕 㛧㵽㰔 䑋㣕䩗㤇㧯㧯㨾䩗䩵䯰 㛧䑋䩵㐄 㵽䫢䫢 䩵㐄䑋㰔 䲩㵽㧯㔝㵽 㬚䫢㙜䑋㣕㼬 㵽㧯㤇㘝㣕㥓䯰 㵽㣕㥓 䩵㐄㨾 䩗㨾䑋䫢䑋㣕㼬 㤇㬚 䩗㘝䫢䩵䑋㾑㵽䩵䑋㤇㣕 㐄㵽㾑䑋㣕㼬 㧯䑋㰔㨾㣕 㰔㤇 㬚㵽㧯䯰 㐄㨾 㐄㵽㥓 㵽 㬚㨾㨾䫢䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㵽䩵 㵽 䫢㤇䩵 㤇㬚 㕭㨾㤇㕭䫢㨾 㛧㐄㤇 㐄㵽㥓 䠹㨾㨾㣕 㰔䩵㘝䩗㥨 㵽䩵 䠹㤇䩵䩵䫢㨾㣕㨾䩗㥨㰔 㬚㤇㧯 㰔㤇 䫢㤇㣕㼬 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 䠹㨾 㕪㘝䑋䩗㥨䫢㙜 䠹㧯㨾㵽㥨䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㧯㤇㘝㼬㐄 㤇㣕㨾 㵽㬚䩵㨾㧯 㵽㣕㤇䩵㐄㨾㧯䋸

䨚㩠䩁㩠䋸

䨚㩠䋸䩁㩠

㩠䋸㩠䩁䨚

䚖㐄㨾 㬚㵽㥓㨾㥓 㨾䩗㐄㤇㨾㰔 㤇㬚 㨾㭪㵽䩗䩵䫢㙜 䩵㐄㵽䩵 㧯㵽㣕㼬 㤇㘝䩵 䑋㣕 䩵㐄㨾 㥓䑋㰔䩵㵽㣕䩗㨾䯰 䠹㘝䩵 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕 㐄㵽㧯㥓䫢㙜 㕭㵽䑋㥓 䑋䩵 㵽㣕㙜 㔝䑋㣕㥓 㵽㰔 㐄㨾 䫢㤇㤇㥨㨾㥓 䩵㤇㛧㵽㧯㥓 䰐㔝㨾㧯䑋㥓䑋㵽 㛧䑋䩵㐄 㵽 㰔㔝䑋䫢㨾䋸

䰮㵽䑋㰔㙜 㰔䩵㨾㕭㕭㨾㥓 䑋㣕 㬚㧯㤇㣕䩵 㤇㬚 㐄㨾㧯 䩗㤇㔝㔝㵽㣕㥓㨾㧯 㵽㰔 䩵㐄㤇㘝㼬㐄 㰔㐄㨾 㛧㵽㰔 㰔䩗㵽㧯㨾㥓 䚖㐄㨾㧯㤇㣕’㰔 㨾㙜㨾㰔 㛧㤇㘝䫢㥓 㔝㨾㰔㔝㨾㧯䑋䱮㨾 㐄㨾㧯 䑋㣕䩵㤇 䠹㨾䩗㤇㔝䑋㣕㼬 䩵㐄㨾 䩵㐄䑋㧯㥓 㛧㤇㔝㵽㣕 䑋㣕 㐄䑋㰔 㵽㧯㔝㰔䋸 䚖㐄䑋㰔 㙜㤇㘝㣕㼬 㔝㵽㣕 㛧㵽㰔 䩵㤇㤇 㥓㵽㣕㼬㨾㧯㤇㘝㰔䋸

䚖㐄㤇㧯䯰㣕㨾

䩵㣕䑋㥓㥓’

㧯㐄㨾

㨾㐄

䑋㥓㼬㨾䑋㣕㛧㣕䋸

㨾㨾㰔

㣕㼬㧯䑋

䫢䯰㵽䫢

䩵㨾㨾㣕㥓㕭㥓㨾㧯

䩵㤇㐄㐄㘝㼬䯰

䑋㐄㰔

䩵㵽

㥨㨾䫢䑋

“㳗㨾㵽䫢䫢㙜䋸 㫠㤇㛧䯰 㛧㐄㵽䩵 㰔㐄㤇㘝䫢㥓 㤇㘝㧯 㣕㨾㭪䩵 㰔䩵㨾㕭 䠹㨾䯰 䆾㘝㕭㧯㨾㔝㨾 㘉㤇㔝㔝㵽㣕㥓㨾㧯㿡”

—

䓙㫠㩠

䰐㳗㯊䚖

䓙䰮䋸㫠䋸

Thank you for making it here, everyone. I understand that it might be disappointing for you all that a part one is ending like this with no clear start date for part two. As much as I wish I could write whatever I want, when I want, life unfortunately doesn’t work like that.

Hopefully, soon I’ll write a some culture-shifting banger that’ll make me a millionaire and I can just do whatever after that, but I haven’t been so lucky yet.

What I can promise, though, is that I will do my best to start Part Two as soon as I can.

I may write an epilogue for RN the day after tomorrow. Write comments about what you would want to see in a bonus chapter (so long as it doesn’t fast forward into true end-game RN), and if an idea intrigues me enough, I’ll write about it. This will be my last RN gift to you all for a while 🙂

Love you guys, thanks for everything