A club that belonged to a stranger. A limb that belonged to a nemesis. A dagger that belonged to a colleague. A lance that belonged to a friend. Swords that belonged to innocents. Spears that belonged to fathers. Stakes that belonged to their children.
Weapons that belonged to the children of the City, lodged in my back and body. In my sorrow, I drifted down the gutter, my face bare after so long. Days, weeks, months, they all flew in a blink after the death of the Pale Librarian. Now I only drifted, my gloves long gone and mask lodged into my skull.
What purpose would a mask hold in hiding a face with rotting skin and bone. There was no need to hide that face; its identity was only that of another corpse in the streets of the City. The City was depraved, but not enough to take vengeance upon the dead. It had seven billion more to kill. There was no use in spending time killing what's already gone. I was gone.
I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying on my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
You succeeded before, when she disappeared from me. When I finally found a purpose beyond following a road to nowhere, you forced your way in. Then, I let you. Only now that my heart is still and in oblivion I drift can you leave me, when you have swallowed me whole. Yet you don't.
The moonlit birds came to meet me. They stole the key and opened the gates, yet no freedom lies beyond nor do I wish to claim it so. The road is barren of a single weed; the reason I cling to it is there is me remaining on the other side of the road. And the only reason why I live is I want to find what I lost.
No more. The me on the other side was killed when she made light of my sorrow, giving up her ideals. The reason why I lived was gone. I lived because I wanted someone to blame and share my sorrow. I died because I did.
I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more. It has been, it still is, faithful to me. Into oblivion I sank and my sorrow followed me. In the waters of River Styx I was carried and my sorrow followed me. With sorrow as my one companion, in black silence I will be forevermore.
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God's Blessings On This Grade 9 Fixer (KonoSuba x Library of Ruina)
FanfictionThe Pale Librarian is dead. Roland has returned to the City, but his fate was sealed when Durandal beheaded his last friend. In lament and sorrow, he grasps at one last chance to seek out what he has lost. That seems to involve reincarnating into an...
