Homecoming

When I examined Pinocchio, who was twitching like a marionette and seemed to have no intention of moving yet, I glanced behind with the corner of my eye.

“Old Man Geppetto, looks like you’re finally coming to your senses. Let’s talk a bit.”

“What, what is it?”

Geppetto, who had been staring at Pinocchio with bewildered eyes, finally regained his senses and looked at me.

Well, it’s understandable.

Seeing Pinocchio resisting the entangling shadows must be heartbreaking for the parent who created him.

“Was he like this before?”

“No, absolutely not! If I had known he was like this…!”

Each time, mechanical devices attached to Pinocchio’s limbs, meshing together in various ways to create weapons.

In the midst of self-evolution.

But Pinocchio would cut off these weapons before they could be completed, as if severing his own limbs. That was the best he could do before they became complete weapons.

“Did you personally confirm the end of that king who took Pinocchio away?”

Geppetto had said that some king had taken Pinocchio away.

And afterward, Pinocchio had returned after killing everyone who stood in his way.

“No… But, well, he was human. He couldn’t have lived this long.”

“So you didn’t confirm his end. You probably just inferred from rumors and circumstances.”

My thinking had been insufficient.

I blindly believed the obvious circumstances of the incident without an ounce of doubt. Setting aside whether to trust Geppetto or not, I never considered the possibility of errors in the information itself.

What an ingenious setup.

Why did I think the king must have died?

Why did I assume Pinocchio had killed everyone and escaped?

How could a few protruding blades possibly slaughter all the knights guarding the castle?

The premise was wrong.

It wasn’t Pinocchio who had done it.

Why had I never considered that the king might have planted something in Pinocchio’s body and released him?

Belial had been lurking in the Empire’s shadows for hundreds of years.

Would someone who had kept quiet for hundreds of years have been any different before?

A demon who likely existed since ancient times? That couldn’t be.

Someone at the center of power could easily bury even the most skilled knight using political maneuvering.

Like cutting into their own flesh, they conquered and slowly destroyed the kingdom itself.

They packaged a kingdom full of bombs nicely for the Empire to consume.

If the goal was to unite countries and destroy them from within.

Then naturally, they must have destroyed many countries to unite them before that.

Like burning incense to draw in insects for a single mass extermination.

They had been planting seeds of destruction one by one for thousands of years.

They had truly been lurking for hundreds, thousands of years, meticulously pushing this world toward destruction.

“It seems I can no longer think of these sparks we considered coincidental as anything but planned.”

Belial would properly emerge above the surface in about 5 years.

But even before that, the Empire had already been gradually walking the path of decline.

The sudden stirring of <The Corruptor>, leading to <The Future Drawer>’s rampage.

The Duchy of Forys was trampled, and dozens of kilometers including the Nidavellir area turned into wasteland.

<The One Who Strings the Blade> began expanding their territory, and <The Wanderer>, who tried to contain the sparks of war, became harmful just by existing.

The battle between trials belonging to the <Wind’s Tomb> intensified until communication with the elves was completely cut off.

What if all of that was their plan? What if these were the seeds he had secretly planted long ago finally sprouting?

“Then we’ll have to uproot every single one of those seeds.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s simple, Old Man. Fighting Pinocchio is now inevitable, isn’t it?”

“How… how can you say that! If you give me a chance to persuade him…”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Belial’s authority is truly difficult to understand. Not only can it dwell in shadows, but its power cannot be detected by any means.

Though they say it stands at the pinnacle of demonic power, the fact that we can’t even detect demonic energy makes it more troublesome than anything else.

I probably wouldn’t have noticed Pinocchio’s anomaly either if I hadn’t directly encountered them in the Duchy of Forys.

Because I already knew Wallace Hope was Belial.

I could connect that unidentifiable eeriness to this situation now.

“Earlier I asked about the king’s death. To put it simply, it seems Pinocchio fell under that king’s evil curse.”

“There might be a solution…!”

“Indeed. It’s obvious given how he’s not attacking us even as we’re having this leisurely conversation.”

Pinocchio was enduring.

He had been resisting Belial’s authority – one called the King of Darkness – for hundreds of long years.

Whatever his nature might be, it was undeniable that he possessed power worthy of being categorized as a trial.

“So we must subdue him. Persuasion can come after.”

With a creaking sound, weapons emerge from behind the trembling Pinocchio’s back.

Their variety ranges from weapons we’d seen before to ones we’d never encountered.

Pinocchio looked like he was hanging from a tree by his neck, with mechanical devices growing like fruit from that tree.

“Hah…! Should I consider this convenient or troublesome…”

All of it was aimed at me.

They had identified me as the most dangerous opponent here.

That’s actually fortunate.

I won’t need to split my attention to protect Linea and Geppetto.

Of course, that means the pressure on me will be immense. My opponent is a trial.

Even if I can temporarily recreate the Saintess’s power, I doubt I can overcome a trial.

“It was a difficult path from the start.”

The weapons targeting me begin to waver one by one.

Red lights flash from unidentified gun barrels, ammunition is loaded into machine gun-type weapons, and fires ignite at the tails of fish-shaped weapons.

I confirm that Geppetto is slowly retreating behind a wall, carrying the still unconscious Linea.

Do I still have some time?

I take out tobacco from my chest and put it in my mouth. This is my last tobacco. Since entering the Castle of Mechanisms, I must have been quite stressed as I’ve been smoking constantly.

“Sip…”

Taking a drag after lighting the tobacco with Vesta’s flame.

“Phew…”

Looking up at the weapons beginning to flash toward me, I speak.

“Yes, rather than resist, just pour everything out.”

Belial’s authority eating away at Pinocchio. Malice directed at humans.

“I’ll take it all.”

And finally, at the moment Pinocchio’s weapons came flying with a flash.

The Castle of Mechanisms collapsed.

*     *     *

Pinocchio never reused weapons he had used once. This wasn’t because they were disposable or needed replacement.

Pinocchio would cut them away immediately after use, as if they were tumors.

There was nothing wrong with that. After all, it was Belial’s malice that had burrowed into Pinocchio creating these weapons.

Removing them meant pulling out the parts tainted by that power.

He must have endured like this.

Now and into the future. He must have planned to keep enduring like this.

But that time wouldn’t have been very long. That’s why he must have risked coming to see Geppetto despite the danger.

If that’s the case, even if I were to stop <The Corruptor>, this area being destroyed would be unavoidable.

Boom!

I avert my eyes for a moment from the explosion dyeing everything before me red.

I click my tongue at the results of the attack I barely managed to dodge.

What absurd strength.

To think he could be this strong despite constantly fighting against his own malice inside.

If Pinocchio had used his full power even for a moment, I wouldn’t have been able to endure.

“Ugh…”

Crash!

The fish-shaped weapon I’d barely grazed explodes in midair.

Unable to escape the explosion’s impact, I’m thrown back and scrape against the ground.

My back burns. Thanks to the wings, it only went this far.

If I’d been bare-bodied, I would have been shredded.

Though it didn’t even touch me, can he now detonate weapons remotely? If so, the weapons’ effective range becomes much wider.

“This is really tough.”

Even being able to react to these attacks is the result of burning my precious memories as sacrifice, yet moving forward seems impossible.

For all my bold declarations, I can’t see a way to save Pinocchio.

Even just the weapons Pinocchio wields are being strengthened in real-time through his self-evolution device.

This is too difficult.

“However…”

If it were easy, I wouldn’t have started.

It’s natural for it to be difficult. This is a plan that a demon – a monster worth a hundred men – spent hundreds, maybe thousands of years crafting.

And here I am, having lived barely more than a decade, trying to overcome it.

Of course it’s difficult. It should be natural to roll on the ground disgracefully with my life on the line.

“Hup!”

Bang! Bang!

The Saintess’s power drawn from my dreams. It’s easy to use since I remember it most clearly.

And I feel fortunate. I couldn’t have dodged Pinocchio’s barrage with just my legs.

Somehow I’m managing to endure by being able to move freely through space with pure white wings fluttering.

Crack!

While focusing on flying around. As I open my clenched fist, I unleash spears of lightning.

In an instant, over ten spears centered on each finger strike directly into Pinocchio’s body. As he shakes his body, they fall to the ground with a thud.

They couldn’t even electrocute him, let alone pierce him.

I don’t get discouraged. I mustn’t get discouraged. I grit my teeth and press on.

The most versatile attack method was just blocked. I’ll dodge his attacks one by one while looking for an opening. Then I can unleash the large-scale holy magic I’ve accumulated over time.

So endure!

Thud!

My body, unable to withstand the explosion’s impact, crashes into the wall. I move before the barrage can begin around that area.

I fly, dodge, and attack.

Containment is meaningless. Pinocchio’s body itself is like a massive castle wall.

Thud!

I stamp the ground. Simply flying and dodging isn’t enough anymore.

I need to add acceleration by directly stepping on the ground.

Bang!

I ignore the rain of bullets.

Rather, I use the attacks from weapons causing massive explosions.

Using the impact that erupts behind me, I get even closer to Pinocchio.

The firing lines increase accordingly. The surface of bombardment that had been spreading out from the center gradually narrows.

“Hup!”

Unless it’s an attack that could be fatal, I take it with my body.

I advance with explosions on my back.

The lightning gathered in both hands now takes the form of a completed spear, no longer a mere natural phenomenon.

“With this!”

The lightning of Jupiter, the celestial god. Power borrowed not from its branches but its essence itself.

<Astrape>

Crash!

I stab with divine authority itself.

No matter how solid Pinocchio’s body might be, he can’t block this.

Crackle!!

The lightning completely devours all the bombardment decorating the surroundings.

A hole opens up to the sky in the wide and solid Castle of Mechanisms.

Sizzle!

A light bright enough to blind.

And the sense of dissonance I felt within it.

“What is this…”

He’s enduring even after taking that?

Pinocchio is grabbing and pulling out the Astrape with his hands.

His raw strength is extraordinary.

I’m freshly realizing just how unreasonable trials are as beings.

Flash!

Pinocchio finally grabs and pulls out the spear. Pushed back by that strength, I’m thrown into the air.

But fortunately, that seems to have been his limit as Pinocchio too is barely maintaining a standing posture.

I made him use many weapons.

I also dealt significant damage to Pinocchio’s main body.

Just looking at what’s visible, one arm has completely burned off and fallen, and residual current flowing through his entire body has rendered the mechanical devices unusable.

Yes, I’ve pushed him this far.

But why.

“How…”

Why hasn’t the malice disappeared yet?

Perhaps it’s already too late.

I thought there would be more malice burrowing into his body even as he kept cutting away parts of himself.

But what if that’s not it?

What if he’s like other half-demons?

Half-demons can’t be turned back.

They can only be turned back at the very beginning when they’ve just been infected by demonic energy.

Because demonic energy burrows toward the heart.

But what if Pinocchio, though a mechanical device, also has a heart?

What if there’s a part that can’t be removed?

“We must destroy the heart.”

That’s when Geppetto, who should have been hiding, came out and spoke.

“There’s no other way.”

With a horrific expression at that.

*     *      *

“…I told you to stay back because it’s dangerous.”

“When you get old, you see many things. Isn’t it already hopeless?”

He seems to have reached the same conclusion as me.

But I haven’t explored other possibilities yet. There might still be another way.

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Isn’t this the chance we barely created? Rather than continue this meaningless war of attrition, we should let him rest easy.”

“Why did we come all this way? That would be failure. Success is only when you and Pinocchio return home together.”

“That’s my stubbornness, not something you need to be stubborn about. No matter how well they hide, your companions won’t be able to withstand even just the aftershocks.”

In the direction Geppetto pointed, there was a heavily scorched Titan and Linea collapsed behind him.

It seems Titan had tried his best to protect that area.

Though we fought from as far away as possible, apparently the aftershocks reached even there.

If we continue this fight any longer, it’s obvious we’ll exceed even that.

“So it’s alright now. Don’t sacrifice anymore for an old man’s stubbornness.”

Geppetto approached Pinocchio, who still hadn’t fully recovered from the lightning’s aftermath.

Just that alone caused the residual lightning in the surroundings to strike Geppetto, creating Lichtenberg figures.

“This is what I should have done from the start.”

It must be painful. An ordinary person wouldn’t even be able to move.

But it seems even that pain is nothing compared to an even greater pain.

“Pinocchio… isn’t it time to come home now?”

Screech!

Geppetto firmly grabbed Pinocchio. The sound of electricity flowing through Pinocchio’s body melting Geppetto’s palms could be heard.

“Fa… ther…”

“Yes, our Pinocchio. How long are you going to play outside? It’s time to stop playing and come home.”

“Can I… come home?”

“Of course, it’s our home – how could it be without you?”

Geppetto’s hand moves toward where Pinocchio’s heart should be.

As if understanding what Geppetto intended to do, Pinocchio smiled brightly and opened his core.

Inside was a small piece of wood. The area around it was already being eaten away by Belial’s shadow.

Crunch!

Geppetto’s hand grasps that piece of wood. Whether from the electricity or what he was about to do.

Geppetto’s expression contorts.

Pinocchio remains frozen with a smiling face like a broken doll.

Crunch!

A sound like something being torn away.

The piece of wood connected to the mechanical devices is pulled out. Simultaneously, the gleam of life dwelling in Pinocchio’s eyes gradually fades.

Still wearing that smile, slowly like a forge’s fire being extinguished.

And so Pinocchio fell silent.

The pure white piece of wood stuck to Geppetto’s melted hand looked like a real heart, stained with the blood oozing out thickly.

Whose heart had been pulled out?

Whether it was Pinocchio’s heart, or the heart of a parent who had to send off their child by their own hands.

That heart was simply red.

“Huff… huff…”

Geppetto pants heavily like a blacksmith who has finished difficult work.

Sweat runs down his forehead, and below that, tears flow from his eyes.

Even as he poured everything out, his eyebrows twitched as if still holding something back.

“Ungh…”

Geppetto finally collapsed.

Whatever he had been holding back poured out like a river breaking through a dam.

The hand gripping the heart trembles uncontrollably from pain.

His expression is so contorted he can’t even open his eyes.

Geppetto wept for a while, clutching that heart.

And finally, when he stood up as if having finished sorting out his feelings.

“Now it’s time to go home.”

He declared the end of this request.

*     *     *

The request was to reunite Geppetto and Pinocchio. Though the outcome wasn’t good, it was somehow accomplished.

Thanks to that, I received an excessive reward.

Weapons made directly by Geppetto.

Moreover, they were weapons he created by reaching self-evolution technology that Pinocchio had achieved through his own power.

Unlike other craftsmen who simply assembled collected parts, the weapons Geppetto personally designed and created felt like they fit perfectly in my hand.

“Will it be alright?”

When we set out on our journey again after leaving Nidavellir, Linea, still gloomy, asked.

There was no need to ask what she meant by “alright.” It was about Geppetto who had lost Pinocchio.

“It has to be. We’ll have to go back to that old man for maintenance anyway, right?”

At my waist was a revolver personally made by Geppetto.

A modified weapon so pure white it felt burdensome to use, designed to use holy power as ammunition.

“Lost, you’re too cold-hearted. How can someone be like that?”

“Haha!”

Linea pouts her lips. She seems to have become more expressive since visiting Nidavellir.

Before, she would just nod in agreement no matter what.

Now she finally feels more human.

“It’s fine. The weapons are so good, I left some change behind.”

Geppetto returned with Pinocchio’s heart. Though the heart cleansed of Belial’s authority was just a tiny piece of wood.

But something still remained. Pinocchio’s heart was small, but it was still there.

“If he did it once, why couldn’t he do it twice? All the materials are there.”

If his longing for his son remains the same as before, surely.

*     *     *

Clang!

The sound of hammering could be heard from inside the lit forge. The sound of metal being struck.

Scrape scrape.

And the sound of something being carved away.

Weaving things together, cutting them apart, joining them. Such various sounds had been coming from one forge all week.

“Huff…! Huff…!”

The aged dwarf never stopped for a moment. Around him, marionette dolls filled the spacious forge.

Clang!

This time, a heart made of steel.

Shaping a silver heart that would never crumble again.

The work is solemn and meticulous.

A masterpiece into which the old dwarf poured all of his centuries of life.

“Yes…”

Geppetto staggered backward right after completing his work.

He could see the small marionette doll in his vision.

“Were you waiting?”

“You’re late coming home. You should come back early and not make us worry.”

At those words, the marionette doll smiled brightly like a mischievous boy.