In the throne room now reeking of metallic blood and death, Emilie stood like a lighthouse amid a storm. She was surrounded by a sea of living corpses—nobles and palace servants—attacking her relentlessly.
With calm and precise swings of her sword, she slashed through the horde, spraying black blood and foul pus onto the marble floor.
However, the attacks didn't deter them. Instead, their empty eyes glowed brighter, their movements becoming more aggressive and frenzied!
One by one, Emilie cut them down, her sword a silver flash in the darkness.
She wasn't overwhelmed yet, but their numbers seemed endless. From the front, sides, back, even from below, thin and rotting hands tried to grab her, pulling at her legs.
A cold horror crept through her as a cold, damp hand managed to touch her ankle.
With a stifled scream, she immediately severed the hand. However, that split-second distraction was enough.
The living corpses from all sides found an opening and lunged at her simultaneously.
Even when their bodies were cleaved in two, the parts still moved, crawling toward her!
Emilie realized this would never end.
At that moment, she saw it.
Amid the horde, a giant in full armor stepped forward, dragging a massive war axe whose tip scraped the stone floor, creating an ear-piercing screech.
The other living corpses immediately parted, giving it way.
At that moment, the giant suddenly charged, raising its axe high and slamming it down with earth-shattering force.
CLANG!
An ear-splitting clang echoed as Emilie's sword blocked the axe.
The shockwave from the impact made the entire room tremble. One, two, three attacks—Emilie managed to hold them off, but her arms began to feel numb.
While locked in a contest of strength with the giant, the other living corpses swarmed her again.
Emilie pushed the axe away with all her might, giving her a brief respite to slash the horde around her. However, the respite was too short.
The giant attacked again, but this time, it kicked with its massive foot.
THUD!
The kick struck Emilie's stomach, sending her flying into a stone pillar.
Right beside her, the queen, now a living corpse, waited and kicked Emilie's face with her remaining strength, sending the girl tumbling again.
The queen's leg broke!
With her body screaming in pain, Emilie forced herself to stand.
But at that moment, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the giant lifting the golden throne from its place and hurling it toward her.
"Eh?"
That was all that escaped her lips.
The next second, the throne slammed into her, propelling her out of the room, crashing through the corridor wall in a shower of stone and wood fragments.
Emilie coughed up blood, her vision blurring. She tried to rise, but her body refused. She looked at her hand.
She could feel the decay creeping across her skin.
Even if she survived now, what about later?
Sooner or later, she would become like them. Pure, cold fear gripped her heart.
At that moment, one thing crossed her mind: Philippe's face.
I haven't... I haven't had the chance to apologize.
With her remaining strength, she began to crawl, dragging her broken body toward the darkness.
***
In the cold corridor, Philippe stepped back toward the throne room.
He had left Armand to rest; forcing him to come would be suicidal.
At that moment, he stopped. From the darkness ahead, he heard something. The sound of dragged, irregular footsteps, full of suffering.
He immediately raised his sword, his eyes sharpening. A human silhouette emerged, staggering. However, as the figure stepped into a beam of moonlight, Philippe froze.
The two of them stared at each other, their eyes wide in disbelief.
Then, a fragile, tearful smile curved on Emilie's face. Her sobs broke as she stumbled forward and hugged Philippe tightly.
Her sweet perfume scent now mixed with the metallic tang of blood and dust.
Philippe was confused, but he didn't resist. He felt the girl's embrace tighten, her trembling body pressing against his.
Hesitantly, he hugged her back.
They stood there, in the silent corridor, for what felt like an eternity. After a few minutes, Philippe slowly released his embrace.
Emilie did the same. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of blood on her cheek, then looked at Philippe with her characteristic smile.
Seeing that smile, Philippe unconsciously smiled back.
The girl's face was dirty with blood and dust. Philippe's hand rose, and gently he caressed Emilie's cheek, wiping away the bloodstain with his thumb. Emilie closed her eyes, savoring the soft touch.
At that moment, from the tip of Philippe's finger touching Emilie's cheek, a clump of thick black smoke began to seep out, writhing like ink in water.
Emilie opened her eyes, feeling a strange cold sensation.
Their eyes met. However, the Philippe she saw now felt different. The smile on his face felt foreign, cold, and his eyes glowed with a dark black light.
Emilie shifted her attention and saw the smoke, confused, but didn't resist.
Is Philippe... healing me?
However, she then saw Philippe's face tense, his teeth grinding as if enduring immense pain. She felt something was wrong.
At that moment, she felt her consciousness fading. Her body felt incredibly light, and slowly it became transparent!
"Eh?"
At that moment, in Philippe's mind, his consciousness snapped back.
What am I doing?
He felt 'something' else in his mind smiling. He sensed a black hole gaping in his memory.
What happened after I touched her cheek?
At that moment, Philippe's eyes widened, and his face turned deathly pale. He yanked his hand from Emilie's cheek as if burned by fire. "No!" he roared, his voice breaking. "No!!! Why? Wait! Why is this happening?!"
Emilie just stared at him, confused, unable to say anything. She could only smile weakly as her body faded further. Philippe looked at her trembling, then lunged forward, desperately hugging her nearly transparent form.
"NO, THAT WASN'T ME!" he sobbed, hot tears flooding his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO! I'M NOT THE ONE WHO DID IT!"
Emilie merely closed her eyes, her fading hand weakly stroking Philippe's hair. Her lips moved, her voice a mere whisper. "I know... I know. Philippe isn't at fault. It's this world that's wrong."
Then, she leaned her lips close to Philippe's ear.
"I love you."
"Philippe."
And at that moment, Emilie's body shattered into thousands of golden light particles, floating briefly in the air before finally vanishing, leaving Philippe howling in emptiness.
***
Armand, still leaning against the cold corridor wall, his breath still ragged amid the oppressive silence. At that moment, he narrowed his eyes, turning toward the darkness.
From afar, he could hear a long scream full of despair and loss. To him, it sounded like the cry of someone who had lost everything.
***
A/N: Heh, we meet again. Too bad this is a short chapter; I'm not good at dramatizing a scene in a long story form. Skill issue. But honestly, is this sad? I don't think anyone is sad about their loss; after all, they're just past characters. But who knows? What do you think... anyway, I need comments!
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