Prologue
“I’m sorry.”
No matter who looked at it, “she” was not at fault.
She was undoubtedly running around more than anyone else present, doing everything she could. She raised her voice to give instructions, guiding those who were lost and encouraging those who were exhausted. Without hesitating for even a moment, she continued working despite being soiled with blood and filth. While others collapsed from exhaustion, she worked almost without rest, and on top of that, remained attentive to everyone around her.
Yet, when faced with unreasonable blame—she neither got angry nor protested, but apologized.
As if she truly were at fault, she apologized for her inadequacy and made no further excuses.
It could be said that it was a beautiful sight.
Without running or hiding, the way she directly accepted the unreasonable situation and the other person’s wailing was so dignified that there wasn’t even a hint of servility.
That manner of being emphasized her nobility.
There were others watching this scene, and everyone seemed moved by her demeanor.
But I remember feeling unbearably frustrated by the sight.
Not anger toward her, who accepted the unreasonable situation without any protest.
Nor displeasure toward the person who thrust that unreasonable blame upon her.
My frustration was directed at myself.
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A young woman who faced unreasonableness head-on and carried the burden of everything in this place.
Ur felt frustrated with himself for not having a single word to say or a single thing he could do for her. Even if he tried to excuse himself by saying it was reasonable given his abilities, that he had done his best within his capabilities, it meant nothing.
There were various reasons why he had jumped into the midst of this situation this time, but ultimately, that was at the root of it.
In order to reach out to that dazzling “gold,” even while acknowledging that it was beyond his reach.
Therefore, he had no intention of making excuses by blaming this current situation on someone else.
Everything was his own choice—however, well,
“Still, couldn’t this situation have been handled a little better?”
The night trembled.
With the pulsation of dark purple invading the quiet darkness, IT rose up. White, thick, heavy legs mercilessly crushed the ruins. Slender, long fingers tangled around a tower that broke with a miserable death cry. Hollow eye sockets that had lost their pupils looked down on everything, and the exposed jaw made a clattering sound. With each movement, dark magical flames scattered.
As a symbol of the end of life and death, IT, being too rude and large to offer prayers to, mocked everything.
[GAGAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAAAAA!!!]
Hearing the distant laughter of the skull-bearer, the gray-haired adventurer—Ur—bitterly muttered.
Why things had turned out this way traced back to just before Ur and his companions departed from the city-state of Greed, the city of deadly sins.
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