The Requiem Of An Empress 9 Mien: Κ?Ρε?「Keres」

'The question I have yet to answer is, did that Demon n.o.ble took over Khamael's body or simply transformed into it? What if it's the real body that was manipulated earlier?'

"Lord Mikhail."

'Malphas definitely turned its engrossment towards my brother when it was done with me. I feel anxious thinking regarding what could've happened to Khamael. I have the utmost trust in the Rounds' abilities, so I should stop coming up with distressing deductions.'

"My Lord?"

'But what if... What if he truly lost? What if he's fallen? What do I do?'

"Mikhail Percival!"

Sarakiel was beginning to get worried of the austere mien that Mikhail was sporting. Thus, after calling out to his captain twice, in vain, the knight hollered Mikhail's full name in hopes of snapping him out of his immersion, and it did.

"Wh-what?", the older Percival responded, discomposed.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

"Although I told you to have faith in Khamael, here I am, doubting my belief."

Sarakiel surveyed the nearby sh.o.r.e by amplifying the view of the sections with his eyesight alone. It urged Mikhail to do the same. He wanted to ask some questions while taking into account the actual situation.

"How much time has pa.s.sed since you removed yourself from the battle?"

"Approximately fifteen minutes."

"Only fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, the second I escaped up to this instant, it happened within a quarter of an hour."

"It grew clear to me what position we hold in this conflict."

Sarakiel could simply clench his jaw at the suffocating dilemma that they were experiencing.

Quietude, again, descended between the two.

"Sarakiel"

Sarakiel was startled when Mikhail suddenly spoke. His nerves were tense from realizing the gravity of the crisis that the Emperor imposed on solely three knights.

"Y-yes?"

"We should brace ourselves for the worst. I did convince myself that Khamael was fine. However, I can solely dream that that is the case." Mikhail attempted to mask his forlornness with a st.u.r.dy voice. Withal, his companion noticed the desperation behind it.

Sarakiel gave his captain a tap on the shoulder to somehow provide him with a.s.surance.

"As long as we persist, the three of us can leave this place with our lives intact. For now, let's forge with caution and proper reason, alright?"

Mikhail jounced his head once to show his consensus. In times like this, he was thankful for his subordinate's brazen trait of ably standing up to his ramrod authority.

"My Lord, Malphas brought his minions with him, that's why we didn't have any pursuers, but I was not expecting for the coast to be empty likewise."

"This area was crawling with thousands of demons and monsters. Where in the world are they?"

The two knights nodded at each other and resumed on their run until their feet touched the sandy beach of the south. They hurriedly scanned their surroundings to confirm their observation.

"There really are no creatures in sight."

"Good riddance. We can focus on searching for Khamael."

"Well, that's a.s.suming that he's still here, My Lord.", the retort naturally came out of Sarakiel's mouth that his captain was left unresponsive. The duke was unaware that he's rubbing salt on an open wound.

'I do not want to entertain the thought that a body just doesn't exist anymore, explaining why this land is barren. I take back what I said. Sarakiel needs to shut his mouth.' Mikhail grumbled to himself.

Although Ikdes was dubbed as a small island, that is still in comparison with the enormous Bellum continent. The knights will take roughly half an hour to cover an insignificant portion of the southern coastline in their quest.

"I'll deal with the forest, and you inspect the rest."

"Roger that, captain."

Devoid of complaints, the both of them went on to their respective tasks.

Halfway into his scouting, Mikhail spotted an unusual object hardly concealed by a bunch of unhealthy bushes. It was quite far, a kilometre or so away. Hence, with the decreased efficiency of his vision and the unsettling darkness of the forest, the man could only make out an unrefined silhouette.

"Sarakiel!"- Mikhail shouted to get his comrade's attention. When he acquired it, Percival pointed his right index finger in the direction of his discovery. Duke Helian understood the command; he immediately sprinted en route the target.

They reached their goal in no more than a couple of minutes, heaving their lungs out on the way. The ident.i.ty of the object became apparent to them, even without further scrutiny.

"Khamael...", Mikhail uttered breathlessly, seeing how mangled the body of his brother was.

Virtually moiety of Khamael's body was almost incinerated, barely retaining its shape. His lower limbs were narrowly attached to his torso by merely thin threads of skin. His frame was riddled, certainly from the incisions by the weapons that were tousled on him. Also, there were several bruises and cuts visible on what's left unburnt of his flesh.

Mikhail's knees gave in, yielding him to genuflect beside Khamael. He ached to hold his brother in his arms. Withal, he worried in respect to hurting him any more than what he suffered.

Meanwhile, Sarakiel diverted his stare from the scene. He was on the verge of tears, unlike his usual demeanour. It was difficult for him to ideate the extent of anguish that his fellow knight endured. At his young age, he already went through a lot of ordeals in his service with the Knights of the Round Table; together with him was his closest and same-age confidant, Khamael Percival. They are not family, but he valued his comrade as one.

'I thought we were invincible. No enemy has dealt us with this kind of atrocity. The instant deaths of the former knights are another story. They were not treated like animals!'

In the midst of his mournful reflection, Sarakiel laid his eyes on an item placed a meter fro of Khamael's head. He quickly picked it up since it didn't pose a threat.

'A note?'

He unfolded the paper and was taken aback of the nearly indiscernible handwriting. His bewilderment ripened into fury as he perused over the sentence.

*** CaNNOt-bE-hEaLEd-RisE-FRom-dEad-ReQUiREd-tO-sUmmON ***

He opted to give the note to Mikhail, not knowing how to feel about it. Duke Helian went up to his kneeling partner and handed the poorly torn piece of parchment to him.

"Who wrote this absurd of a message?!"- Once he finished reading, Mikhail Percival seethed with rage.

Sarakiel maintained his silence, considering he shared the sentiments of his captain.

"Cannot be healed you say?! There is nothing as such! Sarakiel!"

This is the point where Sarakiel desired to deviate his opinion.

What infuriated the Duke was the phrase "rise from the dead" not the "cannot be healed" one.

"My Lord, he is no long-"

"Do not go against my wishes! I am ordering you!"

'He is no longer breathing. We can only heal, not revive. That is the unfortunate truth.', Sarakiel wanted to continue his statement, yet he refused to extinguish the dull glimmer of expectation that Mikhail had.

Mikhail entrusted the job to him for the reason that, among the Rounds, Sarakiel's healing capabilities surpa.s.sed the others'.

"Yes, My Lord."

Sarakiel bent down to caress the face of Khamael. However, upon contact, he felt a sensation akin to electric current zapping his muscles.

"A curse?", he muttered under his breath.

This did not escape Mikhail's hearing, earning him an inquiry.

"Curse?"

"He was cursed. His mana network was cut-off. Lord Khamael's magic was sealed."

"What are you on? Do you mean to tell me that he wasn't able to use his incantations while fighting?"

"Precisely, and it was done when his body was still in perfect condition."

"Then at that time...", Mikhail remembered the occasion when Khamael moved to block an unseen attack from hitting him. He could've discerned that it was that sort of strike if he wasn't so self-absorbed.

"One more thing, magic won't affect him. Healing magic is not an exception."

Sarakiel's addition hammered the final nail in the coffin. Mikhail's lips started to quiver out of pure frustration and his shoulders trembled in resentment.

'Instead of dealing with him in one blow, they presented him the h.e.l.l that he did not deserve! They even had the audacity to leave his body in the cold. I won't forgive this! Myself or those f*ckers!' He kept on blaming himself in his mind. The many what-ifs proliferated his previously minuscule guilt.

Mikhail lowered his head and shut his eyes. He tried to find harmony in his rampaging emotions. After a few seconds of respiring, he reopened his eyes; hollow, unforgiving orbs replaced the intense ones he had. If Sarakiel hadn't seen them before, he'd be shaking in fear. Thankfully, he did.

"I will wholeheartedly offer you the heads of the perpetrators, Khamael. This will be the last time that I'll be leaving your side, I promise."

The man doused his Knight Coat and gently blanketed the body of his brother with it. He proceeded to stroke Khamael's head to gather the strength he needed.

"I'll make sure that they'll writhe in pain a million times than what you felt. Sleep tight, Ivan. I will protect you."

He called him Ivan, short for Ivanov which is Khamael's birth name, amplifying the display of affection that Mikhail had for his only sibling and family.

Duke Helian alienated himself from the dreary farewell. He decided to save his mourning for later.

The older Percival finally straightened his body, locking gaze with Sarakiel in the process. He then lifted the rolled black parchment that was in his grip.

"This scroll has several functions. One of which is to store a spell whose casting duration exceeds, at the least, a dier. His Majesty utilized this. I am hoping that it's a spell practical for our endeavour."

"Are you activating it now, My Lord?"

"Yes."

Mikhail unknotted the string and uttered the incantation to awaken the scroll.

"Profero."

All of a sudden, the scroll hovered in the air and uncoiled by itself. Cursive letters that were golden in hue materialized on the surface of the parchment. As the curtain slowly unveil the spell, an expression of displeasure came into being on the Knight Captain's visage.

"You never cease to amaze and infuriate me concurrently, Your Majesty. Are you dishonouring your knight's death by sending a spell to control the dead?"

**********************************

"Why did you dismiss the congregation if you're going to summon us afresh?"

"It's a good thing that I lingered around the castle."

"You're always like this, dragging us in your pace. Why don't you change for the better?"

"Your Majesty, what is happening?"

These were the consecutive whinings that the Emperor received when the four knights that he resummoned arrived at the audience room. Regrettably, their laments fell on deaf ears.

"I have a request. Do you want to watch the events on the battlefield of Ikdes?"

The Emperor's requisition was instantaneously met with unfavourable judgment.

"You called us for this? You are perfectly aware that we do not take this kind of joke well, aren't you?"- Israfel was not lenient on his protest, openly raising his dissatisfaction.

In the first place, letting the knights have a glimpse of a battle they were not a part of is considered a crude gesture. Nonetheless, the Emperor did not mind Israfel's outburst. The people who can talk down on him were a few from a bunch, with the four knights in the room and the three in Ikdes included.

He was sentient that his knights would disagree with his suggestion. Howbeit, the bidding that he let Duke Helian handle was something that they have to confirm for themselves. If the success of the method is guaranteed, then he will confess about it; if it fails, then what's left for him to do is to take responsibility.

"Yes, I am aware. I implore all of you to give this one a chance. Let's monitor the battle through Sarakiel's eyes."