Arc-4 Ch-16

The scene was bizarre. The Leon I know doesn’t relish conflict. He’s better suited to tilling fields than fighting enemies on a battlefield. Yet here he is, relentlessly beating Rutart.

Rutart’s actions brought this on himself—he can’t complain about being punished without a trial. Zora and her children have piled up that many sins. What unsettles me is Leon’s relentless assault on Rutart. Leon seems soft and emotional, but deep down, he’s coldly pragmatic—capable of ruthless decisions when needed.

Politics can’t survive on ideals alone; on the battlefield, victory sometimes outweighs the lives of soldiers. With a sharp mind and a hunger to push others aside, the person preaches mercy and love with sweet words and a smile, acting like a saint.

That’s the hallmark of a great ruler—or a soldier.

Born into a ducal house and raised amid the court’s dark schemes, I understand that manipulation is a noble’s art. That’s why I cherish Leon, who despises such tactics.

He grumbles but never runs. He strives to be a good husband, father, and lord despite his complaints. Above all, though he hates war, he’s far better at violence than most nobles—my husband. I, a base woman, find perverse pleasure in soothing his doubts and pain over his actions. Thinking back, this is the first time I’ve seen Leon use violence firsthand.

I thought his notorious “Villainous knight” title came from battlefield zeal or jealous upstarts, given his kind nature. But now, watching him attack Rutart, he’s clearly reveling in the thrill of hurting another. This isn’t the Leon who, haunted by war’s shadows, once lashed out at me during our engagement. Knowing his rage stems from my kidnapping stirs a dark joy in me. Yet I’m driven by urgency to stop him. He’s a kind man, tormented by guilt even after killing enemy soldiers.

How many nights have I soothed him, gripping his hand through his nightmares? How often have we made love to ease his battlefield fears? I don’t want to see him hurt anymore. I won’t spout platitudes about murder being wrong.

Rutart’s life means nothing to me. Leon matters most; I’d do anything to save him. I embrace Leon from the side as he chokes Rutart. Action, not words, will calm him. Like a saintess or priestess in legend taming a raging god, I use all I am to stop him. My warmth and touch, blocked by his uniform, feel frustrating. I swore to stay by his side until my life ends.

Even if he hates me, I’ll bear his anger and sorrow. If he sins, I’ll face judgment with him. For now, I pray he returns to the Leon I know.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Something warm touches my head. The soft feel and scent tell me it’s Angie—without looking, I know.

She’s alive.

Relief and joy surge within me. Her trembling embrace reaches me. A bit of calm returns, and I see Rutart convulsing before me. His face is nearly black-purple, swollen, bleeding from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, leaking other fluids. I did this to him—and I have no intention of showing mercy.

Three Roseblade knights are dead, along with some pirates and Lady’s Forest members. Continuing this strategy will mean more deaths—likely Bartfort soldiers too.

They caused this. If Father had killed Zora’s group during the Fanoss War, or if I’d killed them when they visited after I became a noble, many wouldn’t have died. I’m a killer, risen to nobility on the blood, flesh, and bones of enemies. Killing Zora’s group just adds a few more corpses.

I could strangle Rutart without hesitation or regret. Yet my grip on his neck weakens. Angie’s embrace shrinks the anger and hatred controlling me. I try to muster the will to finish Rutart, but my hands tremble, unable to tighten. I recall Zora’s wrongs to my family to fuel my rage, but my hands slip from his neck.

“…Guh, cough!”

Rutart coughs, resuming breathing. Another few seconds, and he’d be dead. But I couldn’t do it. Angie’s embrace sapped my strength with relief. Since our engagement, she’s nursed me through nightmares, holding my hand until dawn. No matter how awful my actions, she forgives and comforts me—she’s more vital than I realized.

Her soft chest, embracing me when I’m anxious, is my sedative. Memories of Angie and the kids outweigh my hatred for Zora’s group. Above all, I don’t want her to see me kill. The irony—my loathing for them stops me from killing them.

“…Amgie, I’m okay. Let go.”

“Really?”

“No lie. I can’t see your face like this.”

“Alright.”

Her warmth and softness linger as she pulls away. Men can’t resist the woman they love—it’s a universal truth. Standing, I move away from Rutart; Angie hugs me again.

I check her condition. No injuries to her limbs or body, but her right cheek is slightly swollen.

“Angie, your face.”

“A bit swollen. No other injuries.”

“…Who did it?”

“The man passed out there.”

I’ll kill him properly this time. I move to attack Rutart again, but Angie holds me.

“Where are you going?”

“To finish him.”

“Is that more important than our embrace?”

“Gotta settle things.”

“You’ve done enough. I don’t forgive him, but I’m satisfied.”

“…If you’re okay with it, fine.”

I want to keep hitting, but if Angie’s content, I’ll stop. Wasting life on scum is bad for my mental health. Looking around, Nicks is struggling with Dorothea’s clinginess. Jenna and Finley, exhausted from beating Merce, are panting.

Father monitors Zora while checking the dead pirates. No more business here—time to go. I pull the communicator from my belt and press the button. A high-pitched startup noise sounds, and I report.

“This is Leon. Four hostages and three ringleaders secured. Your status?”

“This is Arclight. We secured the bridge earlier. A few soldiers have light injuries, no deaths. Outside, Greg and Jilk destroyed all enemy armors and attacked their airship. They surrendered; our ship’s undamaged.”

They wiped out 10 times our armors? Those guys are unreal heroes. Colin’s safe too—I want to go home.

“Understood. We’re heading to the deck to return to our ship.”

“What about the enemy soldiers? About thirty surrendered.”

“What’s their ship’s status?”

“Intact, disarmed.”

“Have both ships head to Bartfort territory. With you there, no one will resist.”

“There’s a problem.”

“What?”

“A small fire in the engine room. Extinguishing it would allow operation, but not in this state.”

“Why a fire? Did some idiot mess with the armory?”

Angie flinches and looks away. She knows something.

“Angie.”

“What?”

“I won’t get mad. What did you do?”

“…I poured oil and dust into the ship’s pipes and set them on fire.”

I tap her head lightly. What’s my wife doing?

“Don’t be reckless. If it reached the reactor, the ship could’ve sunk.”

“I planned it! I set the fire when you arrived! I didn’t expect it to escalate!”

Setting a fire where hostages are held? That’s a death wish. I did reckless things during the Fanoss War, but I calculated them. Nothing’s scarier than an amateur’s impulsiveness.

“Don’t call me an idiot. I did it to help you.”

“Stay the kidnapped princess. Amateur decisions are unreliable.”

“Oh? Quite the sharp tongue for a battle-hardened viscount.”

Angie’s getting upset. Being kidnapped and called useless must sting. This could spiral into a fight. The fire’s spreading, so we need to escape.

“Can you move the pirates to their ship? We’ll take the hostages and soldiers to ours.”

“Understood. We’ll act quickly.”

“Let’s move, Angie. The fire’s bad, and I’m worried about everyone’s condition.”

“…Fine.”

Good. Let’s move before she gets angrier. She might forget if I’m lucky.

“Everyone! Back to the ship!”

“Got it. Prepare, you lot!” Father orders.

“What about Zora’s group?” Nicks asks.

“The ringleaders go to His Highness! First, we move!” I say.

“What about Rutart and Merce? They’re alive,” Jenna points out.

“Father, can you carry them?”

“Two’s too much! Nicks, take one!”

“Got it! Dorothea, let go!”

“Ah!?”

All hostages can walk—lucky, as injuries would slow us. We can abandon Merce and Rutart if needed; securing Zora alone saves face. Zora, resigned, follows quietly, not wanting to die—no need for restraints. Leaving the hangar, the corridor is stifling, with black smoke from the vents.

“This is bad.”

The fire’s spreading fast. In the stern hangar near the ship’s bottom, it’s already this bad. The upper decks might be smoke-filled. We rush to the emergency exit, but heat and smoke pour out when I open it, so I slam it shut.

“Emergency exit’s no good. We go through the ship.”

Angie caused this—hardly funny. My wife’s terrifying when angry; I’ll avoid upsetting her. Climbing the stairs, the scene changes. Black smoke billows, covering the corridor’s upper half. Rescuing hostages only to die in a fire isn’t funny.

“Cover your mouth with a cloth! Don’t breathe the smoke! Stay low and head for the deck!”

Memorizing the ship’s layout was a lifesaver—preparation matters. I check Angie and the others, take a deep breath.

“Let’s go!”

We crawl like beasts, moving slowly to stay together, prioritizing safety. A short walk takes twice as long. We reach a clearer staircase and climb. Step by step, we reach the deck’s door. Opening it, fresh air and blue sky greet us—breathing freely is wonderful.

“Viscount! You’re safe!?” a soldier rushes over.

I want to savor survival, but duty calls. Commanders have it rough.

“Status?”

“All soldiers alive. Six lightly injured, no impact on operations. Thirty-one enemy soldiers.”

“Move everyone to our ship. We will return by airbike; exclude injured soldiers from driving.”

“Yes, sir. Hostages and enemies?”

“Hostages to our ship. Enemies to theirs. Have Greg and Jilk’s armors transport them.”

“Understood.”

As soldiers act, purple and blue hair approach—Brad and Chris.

“You’re safe, Bartfort,” Brad says.

“Thanks to you. You okay?”

“Not a scratch. The enemies were underwhelming,” Chris replies.

On the deck, over thirty pirates and soldiers sit, defeated. Facing this many, plus armors and ships, would’ve been brutal for our forces alone. The revealed odds chill me, but the heroes’ strength is terrifying.

“Did you catch their commander?” I ask.

“Chris took the Lady’s Forest leader. Few in the kingdom match his swordsmanship. He broke his arm to neutralize him,” Brad says.

A sturdy man with a splinted arm is bound—likely the real mastermind. Zora’s group couldn’t lead competently; he’s the true head.

“The pirates? They split off before the armor battles ended. Some might’ve died, but we haven’t checked the bodies.”

“If the airship sinks, we won’t be checking bodies. I’d like to land on a nearby floating island.”

While listening to the report, I let my guard down—and something from behind sends me flying.

“No way, such dreamy hunks!”

“Big brother, who are these guys!?”

It’s my sister and little sister. They beat Merce to a pulp and evacuated a smoke-filled ship, yet they’re bursting with energy.

“I’m Chris Fia Arclight.”

“Brad Fou Field. Nice to meet you, ladies.”

“I’m Jenna Fou Bartfort! I’ve seen you at the academy!”

“I’m Finley Fou Bartfort! By the way, are you two interested in anyone!?”

My siblings jump straight into matchmaking. My advice: steer clear of these guys. Sure, they’re handsome and strong, but I’d rather not have them as brothers-in-law. Plus, they’re devoted to Saintess Olivia.

It’s a guaranteed heartbreak.

“We’ve got the three ringleaders. Also, Angie and Jenna got hit in the face, so we need a doctor fast,” I say.

“Got it. Let’s move quickly,” Brad replies.

As they prepare airbikes, Father rushes over, panicked. Something’s up.

“Sorry! Emergency! Zora’s gone!”

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

It worked. I stifle laughter as I return to the stern hangar. When Balcas caught me, I thought it was over, but the gods haven’t abandoned me. In the smoke-filled corridor, I slipped into a side path when their watch slackened—no one noticed.

Those lowborns are witless monkeys. How dare they humiliate a noble like me? I’ll have my revenge—enjoy your fleeting victory. This battle cost me dearly. The organization collapsed just as I rose to its leader. But I didn’t lose—those useless fools did.

Cutting dead weight was a necessary sacrifice. Relying on them was my mistake. I’m meant to rule, blessed by the gods. Merce and Rutart—what disappointments. I bore them, yet they’re so pathetic. Their father, whom I graciously loved, was useless too. Bearing Balcas’s lowborn child? Repulsive. So I took a lover, but he refused to fight, fled, and got our house stripped.

He died in some petty noble feud—deservedly. Rutart, inheriting his blood, is a cowardly fool. If he’d obeyed Balcas, I’d have controlled the Bartfort house. I could’ve taken Leon’s viscountcy, but what’s the point of bearing useless children?

Merce is the same—aiming too high instead of securing a husband or lover. My suffering is their incompetence. I no longer see them as my children.

“Someone! Anyone there!?”

I need manpower to escape. If survivors remain, I’ll use them to flee. That annoying ex-noble knight is caught or dead. I must reach the Lady’s Forest hideout before he talks. The map’s with a pirate killed in the hangar. With the hideout’s gold and supplies, I’ll rebuild—or sell them for a lavish life. Maybe I’ll secure a title through noble connections.

Yes, children are just obstacles for remarriage. I bore them to seize a barony, but they failed me—such infuriating offspring. Free from their burden, I’ll enjoy a carefree life. Reaching the hangar, I see movement—a familiar shape.

The pirate leader and a few men. I hired them, yet they’re ignoring me? Fury rises, and I shout.

“What are you doing!? Prepare to escape!”

“…You’re alive,” the leader says.

“Mind your tone! Show respect to a noble! This is why I hate barbaric pirates!”

They scowl, but I ignore them. I hired them with the organization’s money to counter that knight, yet they failed. This mess is their fault for plotting to kidnap the Bartforts. If they hadn’t been greedy, I’d be fine—useless idiots.

“You planned to escape with them?” the leader asks.

“Yes! But the Bartforts got here first! So frustrating! And Leon stole the ignition key! Do something, or we’re trapped!”

“That’s rough.”

His insulting gaze infuriates me. My life’s worth far more than theirs. No number of commoner thieves equals one noble. Serving nobles is a commoner’s purpose.

“Is there really no key?” the leader asks.

“It’s true, boss! We can’t move it!” a pirate replies.

“Then no problem.”

The leader pulls a small metal piece from his pocket, similar to Leon’s.

“How?” I gasp.

“This ship’s ours. The built-in key’s a fake. Only we can escape—obvious, right?”

“Well done! Let’s go! I’m sick of this place!”

“Yeah, about the future…”

The leader lights a cigarette, infuriatingly casual. We need to escape before execution. To rebuild, I must reach the hideout fast—my life’s at stake.

“We’re escaping alone.”

A wall appears, and I slam into it. Pain hits, but shock clouds what happened. Someone stands perpendicular to the wall above. I realize it’s the floor—I’m down.

I try to stand, but searing abdominal pain makes me groan. What happened? Facing the pirates, I see smoke from the leader’s gun. I’ve been shot.

“Gyaah!?”

“Loud, huh? Thought nobles screamed better,” he sneers.

My hand, clutching my stomach, is blood-soaked. My blood—noble blood—spills onto the floor. I try to protest, but pain silences me; fear of death brings unstoppable sweat. Why? How could I be shot!?

“You thought we’d forgive you for abandoning us? Still think you’re in charge?”

He drops his cigarette butt, crushing it under his filthy boot. It feels like me—humiliation burns. Me, crawling like a bug? I try to protest, but nausea and pain choke me. His boot stomps my face; I can barely breathe. Breathing’s this hard?

“This ship’s ours. You just borrowed it. Thanks to the heroes and Villainous knight, it’s over.”

“Ugh…”

“An old ex-noble’s worth less than a copper. I could kill you, but since we got the hideout map, I’ll spare you—for now.”

“Guh…”

“We allied for the organization’s stash. With the loudmouths caught, we’ll take it.”

“Gya…”

“See ya, noble. Enjoy what’s left of your life.”

Zora, writhing in pain, couldn’t grasp his words.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“Greg here. The rear hatch is opening,” comes over the communicator.

Only one person would be in the hangar now. Her resilience—unrepentant and unyielding—is almost admirable, though I’d never emulate it.

“Want me to shoot it down?” Greg asks.

For Jilk or Greg, it’s a quick job. I’d delegate if it wasn’t Zora. She’s a hassle, living to torment us. No way I’m letting her escape. But returning through a smoke-filled ship to deal with her wastes time and effort.

“If we have the Lady’s Forest commander, is catching Zora necessary?” I ask.

“He says Zora's group was propped up to hold the organization together. We’ve got the key informants,” Chris replies.

“Then it’s fine to take her out.”

I pull a remote device and activate it. I set it up for emergencies—not expecting this.

“Tell me when the lifeboat’s fully out,” I say.

“Got it. What’d you do?” Greg asks.

“Just watch.”

As I prepare the switch, I meet Father’s eyes. After a moment, I hand him the device.

“Should I do it?” he asks.

“You’ve got the deepest grudge with Zora. It’s yours.”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She was family, in a way. If Angie hadn’t stopped me, I’d have killed Rutart in front of her. I don’t want her to see more of my ugly side and be disappointed. Pushing this on Father makes me as bad as Zora’s group.

“The hatch is clear,” Greg reports.

No choice but to end her if she’s escaping. Zora only ever thought of herself. Father looks slightly sad. Even a villain—she was his wife. Hesitation’s natural.

“See ya, Zora. If you’re reborn, have a decent heart,” Father says.

He sighs and presses the button.

BOOOOM!

A fireball erupts in the sky. The blast rocks the ship, nearly knocking me over; the deafening explosion numbs my ears. Everyone on the deck collapses, stunned.

“Too fast on the trigger!” I shout.

“It won’t work if they get too far!” Father retorts.

“Rigging a lifeboat with explosives is insane!” Nicks yells.

“You and Father didn’t want to carry them back! We packed every bomb we had, laughing about old grudges! My fault!?” I snap.

This was supposed to be a cool moment—watching the lifeboat explode—but I screwed up. The lifeboat’s obliterated, and the blast tilts the airship. The ship’s damaged, and everyone’s glares hurt—especially Angie’s, as she storms over.

“Hey, Leon,” she says.

“…Yes?”

“What did you do?”

“Rigged explosives. Directional charges for doors, grenades for close combat, stuffed in the lifeboat’s reactor.”

“Thoughtless explosives? And you called my judgment unreliable? Pretty sloppy.”

“Unexpected things happen in battle. Good lesson, right?”

THWACK!

Angie punches me hard—my heart and body ache.

“No more stupid moves. Let’s go,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She drags me to my airbike. I straddle it, activate the controls, and it hovers off the deck. I take Angie’s hand, pulling her behind me; her soft touch against my back feels nice.

“I knew you’d come,” she says.

“Fall for me again?”

“If not for that last screw-up.”

“Harsh grading.”

“Downgraded from perfect to rekindled love.”

“Make up your mind—lenient or strict?”

I twist the throttle, accelerating toward our airship. Glancing at the smoking Fanoss ship, I feel relief that this long feud is over.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The blast’s shock snaps her consciousness awake. She can’t grasp what happened. The mangled hatch and tilted hangar floor suggest a massive force. Is it luckier to die unconscious from pain or live briefly after the blast?

One thing’s clear: death looms.

Blood still flows from her abdominal wound. Smoke and heat spill through hangar gaps. The blast-torn hatch creeps closer. Her fate: bleeding out, suffocating, burning, or falling. Inevitable death. Calling for help, blood chokes her voice; organ-eating pain saps her will. Why did this happen?

In her final moments, meaningless thoughts yield no answers. Even at her best, she wouldn’t have found them. She blamed others for all her misfortunes. Poor suitors? Men lacked taste. Not enough luxury? Her husband’s poor earnings. Stripped of her title? The kingdom’s fault. Poor treatment in the organization? Her family’s fault. No return to nobility? Her children’s fault. Losing the battle? Her subordinates’ fault.

All injustices were others’ doing.

She saw herself as a pitiful victim, raging at a world that didn’t satisfy her desires. Now, facing her end, she confronts the world alone. Her faint breaths call for her children, but no one’s there—she abandoned them. She begs her former husband, but no one comes—she never nurtured their love.

She pleads for mercy from the subordinates who shot her, but no one listens—she betrayed them first. If she’d strived to match her proud lineage, suitors would’ve flocked. If she’d cherished her husband, he wouldn’t have left her. If she’d seen her children as individuals, not tools, they’d have respected her, fought for the kingdom, and kept their title.

Everything has a beginning and end. Her actions shaped her life’s outcome. Even at her end, she missed the simple cause-and-effect a child could see. She cursed the world until her last breath. Did her curses reach it? The airship slowly tilts.

She struggles, but her limbs are powerless. Her blood lubricates her slide toward the hatch. The warped hatch is like a monster’s jaw, ready to swallow her. She reaches out, but no one’s there to grab her. A gentle slope, unnoticed when healthy, pulls her. Gravity—inescapable for all—grips her. Even as consciousness fades, her will to live persists—is it luck or misfortune?

Her feet lose the floor. Blood loss stops her arms from rising. Her thighs catch on the hatch’s edge. Her consciousness holds until the end—a fleeting mercy before the underworld?

Why?

The damaged engine causes a slight vibration. That small, decisive push seals her fate. A moment of weightlessness. Then, the world’s inescapable force drags her to the ground.

She never understood. Countless hands were offered. Her prejudice and malice pushed them away.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳⁠

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

This is Zola’s end. (Rest in peace.)  

Unlike the original, where there are few true villains, Zora and her children take the role, meeting a harsher fate.  

I debated whether Zora should survive for execution or die unnoticed and settled on this.  

Next chapter is planned as the finale of part four, with a bonus spicy scene for that character.  

Addendum:  

Per the client’s request, an illustration was drawn by m.a.o-sama. Thank you!  

m.a.o-sama: Pixiv (Note: Adult content warning)  

Feedback would motivate me moving forward!