Chapter 489: 489 Art. 488 "The Fate of Mechanical Manners"

Even after Lugis left Laboure's bedchamber, Junerva's skepticism and hostility did not cease. No, I'd say it's only gotten more intense. The heavy beak clacked.

It no longer mattered that Lugis was a former human. Junerva was convinced that his nature was incompatible with hers.

"You don't trust him, Junerva? For the moment, I want to know why. He's working for our side.

So why are you so suspicious, Lovell asked. It's not because she's stupid that she can't understand. It's because of her nature that she can't understand.

Junerva knew this well, and that was why he trusted her. Opening her beak dexterously, Junerva said.

"Lovell. I don't know how much you can understand. I don't know how much you understand, but there are people like that. They don't know what loyalty or gratitude is. Or worse, calculation and profit and loss.

Those who stand only on their own existence and prove themselves. They betray easily and don't know the word "friend. No, perhaps it's not betrayal for them. They did what they wanted to do.

To tell the truth, there was a time when Junerva preferred such people. They were much easier to get along with than mere demons, and from one point of view, more attractive. Their partings are not sorrowful. In a way, they are easy to understand.

And if you go out with them, you will find that some of them are just cowards. If you open your heart to them, they can be good friends. Junerva believed that in the past.

--Until she met that cowardly traitor.

Junerva's raptor eyes twisted again. She was remembering a very nasty woman.

The red copper who had acted so cowardly, gotten into her pocket, pretended to feel for her, and then betrayed her at the worst possible moment.

That incident made Junerva realize that such people cannot be trusted no matter how hard they try. They really do betray you like it's no big deal.

Laboure listened to the story with interest, but did not seem to understand. He just said that he was aware of the fact that such a thing could happen.

Junerva did not seem bothered by this. On the contrary, she asked him.

"I didn't get a clear answer yet. What did you do to that thing, Labur? I have no idea.

Laboure would never tell a lie. That's why Junelva never pretended to be something she wasn't.

With the tips of his hair falling apart, Laboure opened his lips.

'Let me be frank with you. He was wrong about his destiny. So I made it right, and that's that. Immediate, understanding. He was not meant to be in this position.

Junerva nodded curiously. Up to that point, she had a rough idea of what Lovell was talking about. She must be referring to the mechanical fate that she had mentioned several times in the past.

The seemingly coincidental fates of this world, Lovell said, are all based on the paths of the mechanical gods.

The destinies of demons, animals, insects, and humans are all predetermined. It must not be violated in any way.

"Three oracles I was commanded by the first gods. One of them is this. Correct your fate immediately.

As he said this, Lovell cradled one of his legs in his hands. Every gesture seemed to be a predetermined gesture of the doll.

Laboure was thinking about him in his empty mind. He was thinking about his true destiny.

No matter how Machiavellian Laboure is, he does not know the fate of all things. He can only recognize distortions at best.

But when I touched him directly, I could see his fate very clearly. For the first time in his life, Lovell felt his eyes naturally narrow.

Lugis. At best, a universal man. At worst, mundane. That's about all he was.

The only thing that made him unique was that the talent he was given was a rubbish talent. Not the talent of a merchant, not the talent of a craftsman.

--A bad genius. A bad man.

That's the title he should've been given instead of hero.

One who deceives, uses and betrays with impunity. A scoundrel of great guilt.

Lovell knows that this should have been the original path. On that path, he would have been himself until the end. It would have been a happy life.

Because he didn't have the soul of a hero. He didn't have the talent to fight, he didn't have the magic, he didn't have the race or the environment.

No, he had none of that.

The one who took his place was easily lost, and the teacher he loved was killed before his eyes. He lost his friends, his admirers, everything in equal measure.

That is why he was supposed to reign as evil, breathing smoke of hatred that would burn him no matter how he went about it. Even if it was in the palm of someone's hand. That was supposed to speak of happiness.

And yet...

Something happened that day, that time, that should never have happened. He doesn't even remember when or where it happened.

But it did happen.

--He saw the sun. Golden, divine, unobstructed, clearing the dark clouds.

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They call the sun a great hero.

Everyone wished to be under his sunshine, to be illuminated by his radiance. That's happiness, they thought.

But strangely enough, he was different. As it turns out, he's longing for the sun.

He didn't want to look away or feel the warmth of the sun, he wanted to be like him. Even if his eyes burned out and his arms were torn to shreds.

It's an undeniable curse. A cursed longing to ruin fate. He gave up all his talent and gave in to that longing.

And so he grasped the sword despite his lack of skill, and walked the bloody path, sobbing, with a pride he should never have had.

It was only natural. His fate rejects his will. There was no hero in him, and so he was condemned to a miserable life. And yet he won't leave it behind.

This, Lovell declares, is a clear error of fate. And it's definitely not a minor mistake that can be overlooked. The error of his fate has now involved too many people.

"He will have little memory of anyone now. For the man he is, no one else matters. No memories, no thoughts, no longing. For the time being, everything is gone before the right fate. That's all.

In a hushed voice, Lovell leaned into his destiny that lay within him. Every time he indulged in this feeling, he wondered if this was what human beings were like.

I'm not sure what to make of this.

I'm not sure.

In the event that you've got a lot of time, you'll be able to take a look at a few of the best ways to get the most out of your time. The demons do not condemn it. They knew it was necessary.

Citizens and sorcerers alike shouted.

"You hear that? Master Mastighios--

"Nonsense. How is that possible?

Speculation, anxiety, and agitation mixed together, and emotions began to buzz. For all the people living in the capital, it was hard to believe.

Even after hearing it once, twice, and a third time, they still couldn't believe it. But foolishly. The same words are repeated.

--It was so hard to believe that Mastighios-la-Volgograd, the mage general, would be captured and executed.

Of all the mages and citizens alike who have shown a brief reverence for the demonic, only a few are truly loyal to it.

Even after being shown their mighty power, the awareness that humans are the champions of the continent has not diminished. They may give in for a while, but they believe that someone will eventually get rid of the demonic.

And one of those symbols was Mastighios, and the elite of the Borvat dynasty led by him. No matter how many stories you hear about them, there is no way you can believe that they were defeated.

But hope has a side that exists to be cut off.

In front of the Konoe Palace in the capital. Normally a place of lively entertainment, a place for merchants to raise their voices. But now there are multiple execution tables and criminals being led away.

Magical armored soldiers and elite sorcerers. They were supposed to have left the capital as Borvat's main army, but now they were in chains, defeated. They were being led by a demonic hand until the time of their execution as if they were a spectacle.

The sight of what could have been nothing but humiliation left the citizens in awe. And then, without saying a word, they realized. Oh, this country is dying.

Looking down on the scene from the room he had been given, Majin Lugis added a polishing cloth to his magic sword. Normally, a magic sword would not need such a thing, but he did it out of habit.

On the bed where he was supposed to sleep, a dark-haired sorceress lay sobbing. Her collar and braces were still on, but they must not be working. She was sleeping peacefully. But she didn't seem to wake up.

She'd been asleep ever since Lugis had brought her here. Looking at her, Rougis muttered.

It's not right after all. Is that right?

As he sheathes his magic sword, Rougis grits his teeth and says. The demon bird that had been set up to serve her spread its wings as if it was frightened.

What is it, Master Lugis?

It's nothing. Why do I have to kill those who can't resist? You're disgraceful. A man who betrays you will betray you no matter what you do. I don't know what she's thinking.

Lugis said while combing Fialaert's black hair with his fingertips. I'm not sure why Lugis is doing this, but I know that if we offend her, we could easily die.

It's a good idea to have a good idea of what's going on in your life. When a young bird becomes an adult, it is tested by dropping it off a cliff to see if it can flap its wings. It is a presumptuous parable.

A rite of passage. So Lugis repeated, looking at Fialaert's sleeping face. He turned on his heel. Then he kicks the door open in silence.

I don't know if he understood, but he must have swallowed it somehow. With a relieved look on his face, he told the reporting bird.

"Lord Lugis is on his way to the execution site. Send word that the humans' execution will take place as planned.

The humans' hopes were dashed. And the resentment of the humans will be directed not at the demon but at the traitor Lugis.

The former hero has fallen and turned to the demonic side. The humans will never be able to ally again. And all will end up righteously consumed by the demonic.

The demon bird clucked its beak, keeping what Lovell had said in its heart.

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