CHAPTER 125B: STARTING AS REVENGE
The wind rages. A single, strong gust whips violently at their hair and clothes as they face each other.
The setting is the outskirts of SANCTUARY, near the hidden house where young Garfiel and Frederica lived, in an unpopulated and unremarkable meadow. There are no residencies anywhere near here, and even if there were, nobody would possibly pass by at this juncture. All of the people of SANCTUARY should be busy waiting for Emilia's TRIAL results.
To cheer Emilia on, and for Ram to exploit to clear out the crowd.
Roswaal: “Delusion, yoooooooou say.”
Ram does feel somewhat guilty about using Emilia like this, but refocuses her attention as she sees Roswaal's lips relax into a smile. Roswaal sweeps his long, navy hair down his back, then closes one eye and glares at Ram with the yellow.
Roswaal: “When you are the one saying it, aware of my feelings and my goals, it's quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite the sad thing to hear.”
Ram: “I have have simply kept silent, but always thought so. As I naturally would.”
Roswaal: “Natural... weeeeeeeeell, I doooooooo suppose so. From your perspective, it was a life of prolonged prostration and disgrace.”
Ram: “—”
Ram responds to Roswaal's shrug by lowering her gaze. She more or less understands what he's trying to say. Of course she would. Ram has always been paying attention to Roswaal. She understands to a painful extent how he, recipient of her love and loyalty, would perceive her allegiance to him.
Roswaal: “So, the first thing you do once unfettered from the contract is stray frooooooom my plans. That would be what you did in supporting Subaru-kun and aiding in subjugating Garfiel, correct?”
Ram: “It had carried dual meanings, both for my objectives and to rectify Garf's idiocy. ...Were I not there, I suspect that they wouldn't have managed anything.”
Roswaal: “It does feel that everything worked out 'in the end'. Subaru-kun makes some rather thoughtless bets, when so many precious things are involved and at stake. ...I would never even think to make such an idiotic gamble for my precious one.”
It's something of a sermon: cynical about Subaru's decision, and insistent that his own ideas are the rational ones. And honestly, there is nothing about Roswaal's statement that Ram can refute. Many of Subaru's actions were utterly unplanned and haphazard. He had the luck of Heaven on his side for the whole
Garfiel affair, including how Ram participated in it. Ram's opinion of Subaru being a man of only good timing hasn't changed at all. Should you focus only on the question of achieving a goal, then Roswaal's ideas are far superior. Provided that the gospel can be trusted.
Ram: “Won't make gambles... because what came of prioritising accuracy was the gospel.”
Roswaal: “Eeeeeeeeexactly. Although you seemed not to trust it, and have aaaaaaaaaaalways been adverse to it. Again, inevitable. You've been praying for its writ to divert at any point that it possibly could.”
Ram: “...I will not deny that.”
Cannot deny that. Ram truly was adverse to the gospel. But there's a huge discrepancy between Roswaal's conception and Ram's real motives as to why. And it racked Ram with a sorrow that she never let show on her face.
Roswaal: “Do you remember? The contract that we formed, with the gospel as our intermediary?”
Ram: “—That, provided that history is moving as stated in your gospel, I wager my life to serve you. In exchange,”
Roswaal: “Should time proceed down a path diverged from the gospel's writ, my goals face a standstill. Should I lose sight of my goals, my life loses all meaning. You are permitted to do whatever you wish with my husk.”
Ram: “Your life or death rests upon me.”
Roswaal: “That waaaaaaaaas the contract.”
With that, Roswaal draws a black book from his breast pocket. He cradles the thick tomb close, stroking its cover as he gives a sigh.
Roswaal: “It must have been truly long and painful for you.”
Ram: “—”
Roswaal: “After all... you had to spend your life swearing reluctant loyalty to a man partly responsible for the destruction of your birthplace. Contrary to your prayers, your heart delights when with me... it must have been agony. My deepest apologies for being so aaaaaaaaapathetic.”
Roswaal spins spiteful words to wound Ram.
Partly responsible for the destruction of your birthplace. Hearing that sentence, pain and memories of her hometown, and family, in flames pass through her chest.
The ONI have a low population even for demihumans, but in exchange, possesses incredible strength. Ram's race had gathered up their scant numbers and established a village deep in the mountains, then were exterminated overnight between fire and knives, leaving Ram and ▒▒▒ as the only survivors. She had formed the contract with Roswaal the morning after the fire, as she gazed dazedly over the scorched village.
Ram accepted the contract for the sake of survival. Without ▒▒▒ ever knowing anything, and equally without Ram ever telling ▒▒▒ anything.
Ram: “—?”
Feeling an inexplicable sense of awriness and a faint aching in her head, Ram furrows her brows. She feels that there is an unnatural vacuum somewhere in her memories. That there's something that has to be there, but it's being obfuscated by a network of lies, telling her that no such thing existed. Even though Ram's memories make no sense without it—.
Roswaal: “The despicable longing within you, and the lust for revenge that your true heart fostered. Even with these contrary desires squabbling within you, you proved a truly eeeeeeeeexcellent pawn. Just how extensively have I used you, with your obedient conformity to the gospel?”
While Ram searches her memories to try and find what is off, Roswaal continues his speech. This isn't the time for this, she thinks as she aborts her search for the vacuum and faces Roswaal, who speaks sweetly as he praises her loyalty. But the glances he sends Ram begin to adopt another kind of sentiment.
Roswaal: “But who woooooooould have thought that you'd betray me and ally with Subaru-kun. Do you comprehend how much grief I have suffered because of this?”
Ram: “...I have not defied the terms of our contract. Should the world proceed on a course differing from the gospel, I will adhere not to your words, but to my own heart. The contract... should I have disobeyed it, then I would not have escaped unharmed.”
Putting her hand to her chest, Ram asserts the legitimacy of her actions. This contract between Ram and Roswaal was, naturally, not any simple spoken-word promise. Spells are engraved on both of their souls, and they will suffer more than appropriate penalty should they defy the terms. Since this has not happened, Ram's heart has not defied the contract.
But Roswaal gives a big shake of his head.
Roswaal: “Thaaaaaaaat is what I'm referring to. Considering that you have not been punished for disobeying the contract in this situation... your soul believes without the slightest of doubt that you are adhering to the contract. And I must find that a terribly unfortunate judgement.”
Ram: “What might you mean?”
Roswaal: “It's simple. —The gospel's writ has not diverged yet. The contract between you and I truly reaches its terminus further from now, in the future.”
Asserts Roswaal, his voice low as he looks Ram in the eye. The statement makes even expressionless Ram's cheeks tense. What she is hearing differs greatly from what the contract's spell acknowledged.
Even with all these conditions in place, Roswaal's stubborn heart is not surrendering in the least.
Ram: “The writ has not diverged? Barusu will not challenge the tomb to liberate SANCTUARY, and Emilia-sama is not doing anything to bring about snowfall. How could you state that the writ has not diverged in this situation, Roswaal-sama... has something happened?”
Roswaal: “Nothing at all, it's theeeeeee same as ever. While, true, neither of the things I stated have come into fruition... they still may yet.”
Ram: “That will not happen. Barusu has left SANCTUARY, and Emilia-sama is defeating the TRIALS. To then state that matters will resolve to fit the writ... is this the floundering of an obstinate child?”
Roswaal: “I am quite a mature adult and so can deny being an obstinate child, but I can't deny that I am floundering. Iiiiiiiiiiiinded, here is my useless floundering. —An endless, over four-century long, peeeeeeeeeerpetual stretch of floundering.”
Changing his course, Roswaal asserts that his own actions are 'floundering'. The clown laughs from the back of his throat, his expression twisted in insane elation as he slaps his knees, praising the perfection of it all.
Roswaal: “Floundering, exactly, it's floundering! There is the punchline! Is there any word to more accurately describe this obsession of mine? Nooooooooope, there isn't! Floundering... floundering... ahhaaaaa, wonderful. It had never even occurred to me.”
Ram: “Roswaal-sama!”
Roswaal: “A man floundering in dependant obsession, and a servant whose lust for revenge against a madman has morphed into loyalty to him. Our circumstances are truuuuuuuly crooked and comedic. Hoooooooowever, calling my actions floundering will do nothing to change my intentions. You have acted prematurely.”
Roswaal's insane smile disappears as he presents the gospel to Ram, so that she can see it.
Roswaal: “No matter what you may believe, the contract remains unchanged. Until she overcomes the tomb's TRIALS, nothing has diverged from the writ that Natsuki Subaru will liberate SANCTUARY. And even should she not bring snowfall, no deviation will come to the writ provided that I bring snowfall.”
Ram: “—”
Roswaal: “You may appeal to the terms of the contract, but I also act in equal compliance. And so we sit upon parallels. The time has not come yet for you to enact your revenge.”
Roswaal lightly tosses the book, catching it in his other hand before stashing it in his breast pocket. Flickering flames arise atop his outstretched right arm. Roswaal shows off how the flames change colour from red, to blue, to green, narrowing his eyes.
Roswaal: “You are still subject to the terms of your employment. You have acted impertinently as my servant and so face punishment. If you had truly believed that the world diverged from the gospel, then all you had to do was wait for two more days. I would have presented myself to you without resistance. ...Hastiness serves well for nothing.” Roswaal shakes his head in lamentation. Roswaal: “Although,” Roswaal: “I do understand your desire to destroy me as soon as conceivably possible.” Ram: “...So you truly do understand nothing.” Roswaal: “—?” Ram closes her eyes, murmuring feebly in reply to Roswaal's cynical smile.
Beneath her eyelids there rests a wave of complex emotion, never to show on her face. By closing her eyes, Ram can see her own way of life, which she pledged to never show to anybody. She raises her head. Mana converges at the tip of her wand, poised this entire time.
Ram: “There is no meaning in having you should it be after the contract is fulfilled. After you've been destroyed, there is no meaning at all.” Roswaal: “—Come.” Ram: “As you wish.”
—Flames of vibrant hue crash into invisible blades of wind. With waves of heat surging through their SANCTUARY, the oni and the warlock begin their crooked dance.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
Emilia perceives the exact instant that the TRIAL starts.
Her five senses vanish, and she forfeits the general concept of 'having a body'. Her sensory organs depart from her control, leaving her as only a mind floating helplessly in space —which is what she is right now, only a soul.
This one obviously differs in nature from the previous TRIALS.
Emilia: <—>
She can't speak. She has no mouth. No eyes either, but strangely enough, she can perceive the world. Or no. You could say that she perceives the world, but it's not such a coherent thing yet that you could confidently call it a 'world'.
Emilia's consciousness floats in a void of darkness. She can regardless recognize her own self because of the many lights speckling this dark.
The dim lights come in many colours, splayed about in considerable number. They resemble the glow of a minor spirit, but they give a decisively different vibe from the living spirits.
They may resemble minor spirits, but their light more closely matches that from a spellstone. Regardless, being that these surrounding lights have scattered around to circle Emilia, she feels that she will not lose sight of the world.
Emilia: <—>
Surrounded by lights, and relieved that she has not been left alone, Emilia starts feeling progressively confused about the utter lack of happenings here. The dim lights simply float there in their positions, not doing anything at all. Echidna has been showing up at the start of these TRIALS to explain what has been going on, but this time she isn't there to act as a guide.
Time simply passes on by—though Emilia cannot tell what the time disparity is between the inside and outside of the tomb, she knows that doing nothing will lead to nothing.
Emilia: <—?>
I have to do something, thinks Emilia, and a change occurs. Emilia's consciousness, formerly fixed in place and immobile, transfers over to another spot—close enough to the lights that she could probably touch them.
She has no body, but she can touch light. It's a weird sensation. But she has no other way to express it. If she did, then she might simply be invisible to herself and instead have a body constructed of primal magic—she may just be od. If her od is what holds her consciousness and soul, then that does somewhat explain her current condition.
Reaching some amount of agreement, Emilia thinks to validate her ideas by heading for one of the lights. There have to be more than twenty of these scattered lights. With no particular reason for it, Emilia reaches out for the light that glows a dim silver. And the instant her od touches the light—she sees it.
???: “Hate, hate, absolutely hate you. Me, I loathe you. I really do. All of it, entirely true. Ever since we first met... I've downright hated you.”
Emilia: <—!?>
Immediately following the voice, a vivid scene slips into Emilia's perception. Beneath an overwhelmingly giant sun, in a burnt field, standing beside a massive and dilapidated building, bathed in crimson sunlight, is a girl with blood wetting her silver hair—Emilia.
It's her fully-grown self, who she has just witnessed in the second TRIAL. And she looks woeful as she stands before the ruin, assaulting someone with her words.
Emilia: “I've had the thought countless times, and denied it countless times, but... yes, a nightmare really did catch up to me. And so I'll say it.”
Emilia: <—>
Emilia: “Maybe we really shouldn't have met after all.”
A tear streams down from the corner of her amethyst eye. It trails down to her cheek, falls from her chin, and the instant before it strikes the ground, the world bursts into nothing.
Emilia: <—>
Swallow her breath. As just an od, she's incapable of something so dexterous. All Emilia can do is accept the scene she just witnessed.
What was that light? What was this scene? That had definitely been Emilia, but she doesn't remember this at all. Or perhaps that had been an impossible scene, like the one in the second TRIAL.
Emilia: <—>
It's not, thinks Emilia. She calms her chaotic mind, searches through her memory, and remembers. The words she heard in the tomb when entering the third TRIAL.
<First face your past> <Witness the uncomeatable present>
And now the third one. Yes, it was: <Face the impending calamity>.
Impending calamity. So, the future? She had seen the past and a present, and for the finish, here's the future. So this is the baptism that the TRIAL shows those challenging these alternate worlds?
Which means that Emilia will eventually meet this future? Where she is in such a dismal place, crying as she conveys her regret for meeting somebody?
Emilia: <—>
Emilia uses her feelings of denial to dispel her unease, recovering a superficial level of calm. But, once her mind registers the darkness again, another change occurs.
The silver light that Emilia's od had just touched disappears. A vacuum fills the space that the light once occupied, the thing now missing. Emilia is puzzled by this, but promptly realises what it means.
If each of these lights represents a future, then Emilia needs to touch every one of these futures before she will be freed.
—If this is a TRIAL, then she will have to make some kind of choice after she's seen all the futures. If Echidna is waiting anywhere, then she'll be waiting there. Meaning: Emilia must witness over twenty futures.
Emilia: <—> Will they be differing futures, or all fragments of the same future she just saw? While feeling her non-existent heart wilting, Emilia reaches for the neighbouring light.
This one is blue, reminiscent of something vast and deep, like an ocean—.
???: “You're absolutely right. They were our enemy, and the wound was deep. If we withdrew here, being that neither of us can heal, maybe we wouldn't have managed any rescue.” ???: “In that case...” ???: “But they were just a kid. —And isn't that enough?” Again, the scene changes.
Now she witnesses a thick forest, with two people standing at the edge of a sheer cliff.
She can't see their faces. But she knows both of their voices. One is very familiar, and thought the other one isn't, she does remember it. The two are facing off before the cliff, one of them kneeling, the other looking down at the kneeling party. Both of them look horribly morose, Emilia feels. ???: “You... you are a hero. A hero's... all, you can ever be!” ???: “I...” ???: “Why thank you so very much for your help!” One silhouette reaches their hand out to the other, who turns their face away and imparts those cavalier words of gratitude.
This feels like a definite farewell between these two people. A goodbye laced with only irreparable woe and disappointment. The world begins to fade again, and Emilia's consciousness returns to the dark space.
Emilia: <—>
Emilia had not been present in that scene at all. She knew who the people in it were, but it feels awry that she herself was absent. She's meant to be facing these lights while conceiving of them as futures.
So why on earth is it showing her futures where she is absent, or scenes that she will not be present for?
—Is she being shown how her decisions may affect the futures of those around her?
If so, then these scenes only present one possibility out of many. It's telling her to witness how her decisions will impact those other than herself.
Emilia: <—>
The blue light vanishes as the silver light did. Twenty lights still remain.
—Each one of them carries the weight of a choice.
Steeling herself for this, Emilia reaches out to see the outcome of her decisions through. In the next future, and the future after that, Emilia's decisions await.
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
With a swish of her wand, she creates and unleashes a blade of wind. Invisible and inaudible, the whirling blade closes in on its target's throat as an assassin.
Roswaal: “Is that all?”
But Roswaal easily evades the imperceptible attack by nimbly jumping away. Of course he would. He is the head of the renowned Mathers family of sorcerers, a rare breed of magician proficient in all six classes of magic. For Roswaal L. Mathers, perceiving others' manipulation of mana is child's play. Even wind magic with its invisible blades is as visible to Roswaal as fire in the night.
Roswaal: “My turn.”
With a swing of Roswaal's arm, three fireballs of differing hue rain down upon Ram. A red fire, a blue fire, and a green fire—all three of them pursue Ram when she leaps backward, quite annoying in how they tail her. She runs backwards, her breath slightly ragged, as she unleashes another spike of magic. The windblade strikes the three flames, which Ram thought would snuff them out, but instead they each react in differing ways.
Ram: “—!?”
The instant the red flame takes the hit, like taking a bath of oil, it combusts into a pillar of fire. The blue flame is easily sliced to pieces by wind, its embers shooting out in all directions. The green flame looks to be engulfed in wind, when it then absorbs the wind mana and changes its shape, morphing into a snake of green fire that slithers across the ground in pursuit of Ram.
The fire pillar blazes at Ram, who kicks off from a massive tree to avoid the blue flames, and then tumbles across the ground to dodge the green flame's fangs before again striking the fire-snake with her windblade. The snake bursts into small flares, which scatter over the meadow to smoulder.
Roswaal: “Oh my... that was only one exchange of magic, and yet you seem quite wounded.”
Ram: “Hahh... hauhh...”
Roswaal: “If you acted with belief that you could win, then I must say that your estimations are raaaaaaaaaather naive. Why yes, I am currently devoting a large allotment of magic to the algorithm to manipulate the weather. Hoooooooowever, I am not so careless to accordingly neglect what is aaaaaaaaaaat hand.”
Roswaal tilts his head as he watches Ram, her shoulders heaving with every breath, and spreads flames to encircle them. He creates the three hues of flame again, which take the form of giant fireballs in his hand before moving to revolve around him. Their numbers compound with every revolution, gaining speed. It only takes a few seconds before Roswaal is veiled in a vortex of chromatic fireballs.
Roswaal: “This is from one flame of each colour. Ten flames of each type, for a total of thirty fireballs. You won't manage to dispose of them all with your current abilities.”
Ram: “—”
Roswaal: “Although, were you intending to confront me while my combat strength was minimized, it was the epitome of foolishness to aid in the fight against Garfiel. My abilities may be diminished, but that means nothing when your abilities are diminished as well. I can tell from the mana overflowing from you. —You transformed, didn't you.”
Asks Roswaal, his voice low. Ram settles her breathing and answers only with a glance. Perhaps having expected no reply, Roswaal shrugs.
Roswaal: “Of course you would turn out like this, should you transform without my aid. You may challenge me with only the slightest of mana, but you'll approach your limit within a minute of fighting. If we view this in terms of you expending your best efforts for the sake of your goal, it's an affront to the eyes.”
Ram: “An affront... to the eyes, you say.”
Roswaal: “Iiiiiiiiiiiindeed, an affront to the eyes. You did state this before. When I said that you needed only wait two days to see if the world had utterly diverged from the gospel, you stated that would be pointless. I had been wondering what you meant at first... but I've contemplated it, and come to a solution.”
Her breathing is calming down, but neither her stamina nor magic is replenishing. Roswaal knows this, and so he is holding off on attacking Ram to have this conversation. It's another story if she starts being an obstacle, but Roswaal doesn't intend to kill Ram. And Ram has to feel that this complacency of his is an insult.
Roswaal: “If we take your goal to be revenge, then the answer is simple. You may brutalize me when I am a cripple, but that will not appease you. That is the only reason I can conceive that you would abandon your chance for definite revenge by challenging me now. It is only when you slay me, partway through my own goals, that you will achieve revenge.”
Ram: “—”
Roswaal: “That was partly my mistake for pressuring you into a choice at a critical moment when you were still young. It may have panicked you, after time passed and you realised thaaaaaaat fact. And so you've run amok to ensure the opportunity does not escape you. ...Though, you can see how that turned out.”
Ram: “—auh,”
A sound slips from Ram's throat. A hoarse, breathy sigh.
Roswaal's odd-coloured eyes fixate on Ram, making sure not to miss a single one of her actions. With that gaze upon her, Ram thinks back on everything she's done for the last half of her life. Although she always knew it, recognizing it again, after all this time, does prick her.
Feeling the pain, Ram opens her mouth. Wide, so wide, as she looks up at the sky—
Ram: “Ahahahahaahahahaha!”
Roswaal: “—Ram?”
They're mirroring each other. As she thinks of how Roswaal chortled earlier, the thrill only escalates inside her. Her reasoning is entirely different to Roswaal's, but yes indeed this is amusing. She has to laugh. And of course she would. Because, in the end.
Ram: “After all the interactions, after all of that contact, you still haven't realised how the other party feels.”
He's dim, he's insensitive, no, it's something on an entirely different level. He's stubborn. He is fixated. He has determined that this would never happen, and so not moved an inch.
To him, it's inconceivable that the passage of time would see feelings that started as revenge transform into yearning.
Ram: “I have been by your side... because of the contract.”
Roswaal: “Yes, indeed you have. In that smouldering village, you and I formed a contract of vassalage. I still remember how, even without your horn, your eyes blazed wet with fury. And so I sealed that away through the contract, and redirected your vehemence into loyalty. Although, I did believe that a day like this would someday come...”
Ram: “You're right. You were right. I wished to murder you. But you stole that opportunity from me, and I proceeded to spend my days in the mansion with this inexplicable loyalty... and.”
Roswaal: “Unfettered from the contract, you have today determined to sate your desire for rev—”
Roswaal is lining up his theories. It's hilarious. It's truly as if he pays no attention to anything except his own feelings, she thinks.
Ram: “Roswaal-sama, I am in love with you.”
Roswaal: “—”
Ram: “I wound up falling in love with you. That is why there is no purpose in attaining you once you are broken. That is not the Roswaal-sama who I desire.”
Roswaal's eyes shoot open as his body freezes rigid. He is stunned, as if he had truly, seriously not anticipated this in the slightest. He promptly shakes his head, attempting to come up with words, but his lips merely quiver with nothing meaningful coming out of them.
Ram: “Is something the matter?”
Roswaal: “Of, course there... are you, mocking me? After all of this, mocking me? You recognized that your strength is too lacking, and so are attempting to shake me mentally, and...”
Ram: “How could I possibly believe that such wiles would work on you, Roswaal-sama? I am simply stating what I truly feel.”
Roswaal: “That only makes it even less conceivable!”
Yells Roswaal, stomping at the ground. Reflecting his agitated mental state, the shroud of fireballs flies into disarray. They soon come to a halt, floating at various points around the surroundings as Roswaal glares at Ram.
Roswaal: “You love me? What on earth are you saying. You detest me. I'm a man you detest. I'm a man partially responsible for the destruction of your birthplace. You're meant to hate me so much you'd like to murder me!”
Ram: “I did at first. But not now. Now, I love you.”
Roswaal: “This idiotic...! Who would, think such a cheap...!”
Feelings that started as revenge must proceed to be revenge. Feelings that become yearning must only ever start as yearning.
Roswaal stubbornly believes that people's desires and feelings cannot change. And so he cannot believe that Ram has changed her mind so dramatically as to alter her way of life.
Roswaal: “What about your revenge! Did you not pledge for it! Did you not face your ashen village, and swear upon the souls of your dead brethren that you would accomplish revenge!”
Ram: “I do think it wrong toward my brethren, and it does pain my heart to think of my birthplace. However, I cannot change that I have fallen in love. I am prioritising my own feelings over those of the dead.”
Roswaal: “—!”
Ram: “And you are not my direct foe, Roswaal-sama. Should my lust for revenge obscure my vision, that would be the more shameful course. ...Would be my excuse.”
Roswaal is utterly lost for words. Understand the situation right now!! would probably be an unreasonable demand. Roswaal is a man who has gone for a very, very long time while sticking to his feelings. Wholeheartedly, persistently devoting his love to one single person, doing everything he could to make his wishes come true.
His emotions, his heart, and his belief that things ought to be this way are far too strong. And so he cannot understand feelings that change over time, or understand that strength.
There's really nothing she can do about the fact that she finds even this aspect of him darling.
Ram: “I shall never allow you to become an invalid.”
Roswaal: “...You're contradicting yourself. No matter what your feelings are—no, doubly so presuming that they're exactly what you stated—I don't understand why you are challenging me now. If the gospel diverges, then I lose my purpose in life and mentally suffer. You are aware of this, so why!”
Ram: “Because this is the moment. Barusu, Emilia-sama, Garf... now that all of them have brought your heart close to wavering, I face my single and only moment of opportunity.”
So long as the contract persists between Roswaal and Ram, Ram cannot defy Roswaal. That Ram is currently disobeying Roswaal is because her soul has judged that she is unfettered from the contract, as Roswaal pointed out. But is she truly? If one party believes that they fit the conditions, then they are exempted as a target for the contract. Does the system of 'contracts' truly posses such a vague and loose set of judgement criteria?
And so Ram pleads. That she is not the only one who believes that the requirement to disregard the contract, the divergence of the world and the gospel, has been met. That some corner of Roswaal's mind has registered the same thing. That this situation has arisen accordingly.
Roswaal looks utterly confused as Ram turns to face him, holds her breath, and dashes forth. She draws her wand, wringing out the dregs of mana she has to cast a spell.
Roswaal: “—! It's useless!”
Ram's actions lead Roswaal to dispel his turmoil and order his floating fireballs to strike and stall her. But not a single one of the fireballs hits her as she keeps low to the ground, their heat doing nothing more than singeing her skin. Ram has fulfilled the criteria needed to follow the gospel's future until now—and he cannot determine whether to discard her. The fact that he cannot perceive Ram's designs also plays into it.
Perhaps he might even regret killing her. If so, then that alone is enough to elate her so magnificently that she forgets her previous melancholy.
Ram: “—El, Fula!!”
She concentrates the powers of wind, invisible destruction detonating before her. Roswaal has prepared himself in fighting posture, but he is not her target. She aims for the ground beneath it, rupturing it open and sending a great explosion of dirt to drown out his field of vision.
Roswaal: “Do you think this smokescreen will...!”
Ram: “—!”
One sweep of Roswaal's arm shatters the momentary veil of dirt into pieces. The barrier fades to nothing, and as she watches it, Ram gives a sharp exhale and concentrates power to her forehead.
Ram: “...auh, ghh,”
Agony. Her vision drowns in scarlet as bloody tears spill from her bloodshot eyes. Her muscles, her bones, both of them creak as she hears the noise of her tendons ripping.
She ignores all of it, gritting her teeth so hard that she shatters them as she steps forth. The ground beneath her shatters, and in that instant, Ram has transcended the limits of mortals.
Roswaal has batted the screen of dirt away—and Ram soars at him faster than a nanosecond. He notices Ram, but before his eyes can even shoot open, she moves. Her outstretched arm reaches for Roswaal's torso, and he swallows his breath as he realises that her hand is contacting his chest.
Transformation. Nothing else could have fostered this advance in Ram's abilities. Although it is only momentary, Ram's strength currently exceeds the limits of the human body. Roswaal must realise that it was his blunder not to consider that she could shatter his ribcage and pop his heart. However,
Roswaal: “—Wh, at?”
When the shock and pain fails to come, Roswaal can only blubber in astonishment. In the blink of an eye, Ram has skidded to a stop about ten meters away from Roswaal. She faces down, and vomits blood as she falls to her knees.
Roswaal furrows his brows, unable to comprehend the purpose behind Ram's actions. But once he sees what is in Ram's hands, his expression instantly shifts.
Roswaal: “That!”
Ram: “To, me... this is, the root of all evil.”
His face pale, Roswaal moves to start sprinting over. Ram responds merely by glancing up before, without any hesitation of all, giving a swing of her arm. —And the gospel in her hands goes flying into one of the smouldering green flames. Roswaal: “—!” Roswaal screeches mutely, but still the blaze consumes the gospel and bursts even hotter. Alongside a satisfying boom, the ancient book transforms into a pile of green ash. Ram watches on, as if she has been yearning to see this for a very long time, Ram: “—Now, finally,” Ram sighs in satisfaction, her cheeks growing flush.
—The fireball thrown out of rage pierces through her petite frame in the very next instant.
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