Chapter Seventy: I Shall Raise the Torch

When one is lost in emptiness and absent-mindedness, the heart instinctively seeks solace. Mulan wandered the streets in a daze, aimlessly from the break of dawn until the thoroughfares teemed with pedestrians. Without conscious thought, his feet carried him along familiar paths, until a voice called out to him.

“Mr. X?”

Mole was just about to head out for breakfast when, upon opening the door, he spotted Mr. X approaching, his steps unsteady. At the sound of his name, Mr. X lifted his head, revealing a haggard face and lifeless eyes.

“Mr. X, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Mole hurried to support Mulan, glancing around anxiously before guiding him into the house and settling him at the kitchen table. He brewed a cup of coffee for him.

Though not entirely unresponsive, Mulan still knew to cradle the coffee cup for warmth. Yet his eyes stared blankly at the steam rising from the cup; not a word escaped his lips.

Mole fetched a blanket to drape over his shoulders and stoked the fire, but could do little else but fret. He knew that something momentous must have occurred.

“Mr. X, what happened to you? You are a man of such strength and wisdom—how could you end up like this? If you’re in trouble, please tell me. I can help you think of a solution!”

Mulan glanced at Mole and shook his head slightly.

“It’s meaningless.”

“What is meaningless?”

Mulan fell silent again, and Mole began to tug anxiously at his beard.

“There’s no hardship that can’t be overcome. When I once faced mortal danger, it seemed insurmountable to me, but you and your friends appeared and saved me. Perhaps now, I can help you. Mr. X, please, what’s wrong?”

“My best friend passed away,” Mulan said softly, and Mole instantly fell silent.

“His final obsession was to reveal the truth. He died before my eyes—died by my sword…”

Mole had just opened his mouth to offer comfort, but hearing that Mulan had killed his own friend, he was struck speechless.

“There must have been a reason?”

“In a way. I helped him find release…”

Mole exhaled in relief and spoke consolingly.

“Then your friend rests peacefully in heaven, and you’re left here to grieve. Mr. X, this feeling—”

Before he could finish, Mulan abruptly stood, his voice a hoarse roar.

“There is no heaven! None! That’s what shattered him, that’s why he broke! This so-called light is a lie, or at best, the wishful thinking of pitiful fools! The world is sinking into darkness, and everyone is complicit, everyone is casting ink!”

“There’s no hope for salvation…”

Mulan’s voice grew low; he slowly sat down again.

Mole could not grasp all of Mulan’s meaning, but he understood enough.

“So, your pain is not only your friend’s death, but your own clarity?”

He walked to Mulan’s side, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Mr. X, you are the wisest man I know. Don’t let despair defeat you. Seeing you like this disheartens me as well.”

“Mr. Mole, you don’t understand the chasm—compared to them, we are but ants…”

Mulan recalled the gaze of the elder god—not contempt, nor mockery, but utter disregard and coldness, a gaze that saw humans as nothing at all. Such disparity could no longer be described in words; it was an abyss of despair.

Mole could not reconcile this man before him with the confident, idealistic Mulan of before. Seeing him so lost, he felt a sense of absurdity, and even a flicker of anger.

“Have you tried every possibility? Even if you have, are you sure you’re right? Will you die tomorrow, or in the next second?”

Mulan tried to speak, but Mole, now visibly agitated, pressed on.

“All I know is, what once seemed invincible and terrifying, upon analysis, proved hollow. What once seemed unsolvable, now has answers. The challenge before you is immense, yes, but if you face it head-on, you will overcome it sooner or later!”

“Mr. X, you said your friend’s last wish was to tell you the truth. I don’t believe he wanted you to despair. He placed all his hope in you. Mr. X, you are a man of wisdom and ideals—I don’t believe, and I refuse to believe, you lack courage!”

As he spoke, Mole slammed his fist on the table with a bang, sending hot coffee splashing onto Mulan’s hand.

The heat made Mulan recoil instinctively—it reminded him of Aiwen’s tears.

After his impassioned plea, Mole saw that Mulan still kept his silence. Despondent, Mole slumped into his seat, unsure how to continue.

Yet in that moment, dreams from the past seemed to converge in Mulan’s mind—memories interweaving: strange nightmares, the deaths of apostles, the gaze of the elder god, Aiwen’s smile and sincerity, his own hopes and passions, and all the beauty humanity could offer…

A true warrior dares to face the bleakness of life and gaze unflinchingly at bloodshed!

‘Mulan Jonst, will you choose to be a broken coward, or a warrior, even if only for a minute?’

Mulan sat in silence, but a spark flickered to life within him. There is no such thing as absolute despair. If there is still one thing worth doing, it is to place hope before him, and to pull Aiwen from the depths of despair!

Once more, Mulan grasped his cup, laughter rasping from his throat.

“Heh heh heh… ha ha ha ha ha…”

The laughter grew vibrant, tinged with a hint of madness.

In the next moment, Mulan stood, a new light burning in his eyes.

“Mr. Mole, you are the wisest man I’ve ever met. Thank you!”

“You…”

“I’m alright now. I believe I have a gathering I must not miss. I’ll visit you again.”

Draining his coffee, he moistened his parched mouth, tossed the blanket onto the chair, and walked out the door before Mole could follow.

The sky was overcast. Mulan looked up, sensing a storm brewing within the clouds.

A peal of thunder rolled across the sky, followed by a torrent of rain.

Pedestrians scrambled for shelter, but Mulan made no move to avoid the downpour. He strode forward, arms outstretched, face turned skyward, letting the frigid drops wash over him as if to cleanse him of all his shadows.

The rain struck the ground, swirling up mist around Mulan’s feet. A faint heat radiated from his body, warping the air like a mirage on a sun-baked street. Rain evaporated where it touched him.

Despite all humanity’s flaws, despite the chaos of our history, it is also a history of courage. From savagery to civilization, from weakness to strength, humanity has overcome trial after trial. Our existence is a miracle—an accumulation of countless miracles.

There is no need for mystical powers; humanity is great in its own right, civilization can flourish. Mulan knew how rich and powerful human society could become, for he had seen it.

His pace quickened, breaking into a jog. He stretched out his left hand—in the rain, his cane materialized in his palm. His right hand called forth his servant—the one who called him master. In an instant, the demon’s spirit appeared in his grasp.

“Ha ha ha ha! Mulan Jonst, you’re finally letting me out? Are you ready to accept my proposal?”

“I’m not considering your proposal. But I have one of my own.”

The demon tried to break free, but Mulan’s grip was burning and strong. Fear and a manic excitement mingled in the demon’s eyes, as if something momentous were about to occur.

“What is it?”

“As your master, I command you—die.”

In the next instant, the fangs plunged forth, piercing the demon’s form. In stunned silence, the demon was absorbed, not even a scream escaping its lips.

Without experiencing despair, how could one understand hope? If there is no hope before me, then I shall become that hope. If there is no torch in the darkness, then I will raise the first torch!

This nightmare must end!

The demon’s essence, pure and undiluted, surged through the fangs into Mulan’s soul, filling him with unprecedented confidence.

The Grand Cathedral of Digo had already been cleared in advance. The Queen, Nisheliel, and several officials, along with many clergy, had gathered. The great hall shone with purity and light, but the guest of honor for today’s investiture was nowhere to be seen.

“Have all the places Lord Jonst frequents been checked?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, we’ve searched everywhere. Lord Jonst was seen leaving early this morning…”

Nisheliel was anxious. Others whispered among themselves—it was a high honor for a knight, yet Mulan was late for such an occasion.

Their impatience was short-lived. Soon, a guard at the door called out:

“Lord Jonst! Lord Jonst has arrived!”

Mulan walked toward the cathedral, fangs sheathed in his hand. He wore no hat; rainwater streamed through his tousled hair and soaked overcoat, dripping as he entered the holy hall.

The organ’s sacred music swelled through the cathedral.

Mulan refused the dry clothes and towels offered to him, striding down the aisle to the Queen and the High Priest.

When he reached Nisheliel, he knelt on one knee and offered his sword.

“Your Majesty, I was delayed, but I am here.”

Nisheliel showed no displeasure, nor did she blame him for his appearance. Instead, she smiled and accepted the sword-cane.

“The timing is perfect.”

The High Priest gestured, and the assembly formed lines.

The organ’s ethereal, holy music echoed, drawing every gaze to the Queen and Mulan. Nisheliel drew the fangs and rested them atop Mulan’s sword.

“Mulan Jonst, as Queen of the Empire, I bestow upon you the Violet Knight’s Medal, name you Great Knight of the Empire, appoint you as my Guardian Knight, and grant you the title of Imperial Baron! Knight, in this holy hall, swear your oath of loyalty!”

Mulan looked up at the Queen and at the statue of the Holy Light. Faith ignited in his heart, burning as fiercely as the sun.

“I swear, to serve the Empire of Dierga forever, to serve Queen Nisheliel forever, to fight for the Empire, and for the Queen! I will hold to the light, stand by justice; I will become a knight of radiance, devoting my life and all my strength to protect all I have sworn to defend!”

His vow rang out with power, while within his soul, another oath roared silently:

‘I swear, to be forever loyal to humanity, forever loyal to my own faith. I will guard the world, guard mankind, fight for the light of humanity. I will raise the torch and become the first light in the darkness. I am both the Great Knight of Light and the Great Demon in the shadows. With all my life and all my strength, by any means necessary, I will drive out every Elder God and sweep away all darkness born of chaos!’

Pure obsession and a faith so powerful it shaped reality gave birth to an unparalleled force of presence.

As Mulan finished his vows, both aloud and in his heart, an uncontrollable radiance burst forth from him. Still kneeling, a towering knightly silhouette rose behind him, wings of light unfurling and spreading wide.

The Queen, the High Priest, officials, and guards alike watched in awe. No one had ever broken through their limits simply by choosing a path. This was a powerful totem, a miraculous force beyond imagination.

Mulan slowly raised his head, eyes ablaze with a scorching fire. Not only the Queen, but all who met his gaze felt its searing heat.

Here stood a knight of unwavering faith—a true knight of radiance and sanctity. In this moment, none could doubt it.

And yet, beneath the knight’s shining wings, a pair of pitch-black wings also unfurled—a shadow like a mad gentleman from the abyss, with razor claws, eyes blood-red, and a mouth stretched in a grotesque grin, savoring, amid the sacred music, the purest praise ever given to a knight.