Past Arc ⑪
Fodui's life had always been about pushing others down.
The weak existed to be exploited. The strong existed to be overtaken.
That was how he lived.
He did not commit crimes or engage in fraud—only profitable activities legally unassailable.
He extracted wealth from the weak, stole from the strong.
Then moved on to the next source of profit.
Fodui himself had no desire for wealth.
It was simply his birthright. Earning money was his duty. His life.
His existence functioned like a gear in the economy.
Fodui was a mechanism designed solely to circulate money.
Sariel was perceived as the opposite of Fodui.
Offered aid to the weak. Extended a hand to those who had fallen from strength.
Fodui, who lived a life devoid of interest as a mere money-making machine, grew curious about an entity diametrically opposed to himself.
What kind of saintly figure could this be?
Fodui donated a portion of his surplus wealth to the Sariel Association.
Using that connection, he succeeded in arranging a meeting with Syrilis.
What he encountered was an entity even more mechanical than himself.
No emotion. Simply carrying out a given mission with detached precision.
There was no trace of the saintly ideal Fodui had imagined.
Fodui’s impression of Syrilis was that of a machine.
A machine without autonomous will, moving only as pre-programmed.
More accurately, a machine that had developed a flaw yet still operated normally.
What Fodui felt upon seeing Syrilis was pity.
He felt an ineffable pity at the sight of Syrilis—acting without understanding his own principles, yet carrying out his duty with unyielding calm.
Yet, that did not mean he could do anything about it.
No matter how Fodui felt toward Syrilis, Syrilis remained unchanged—still a gear in the world’s mechanism.
It was beyond Fodui’s power to alter this, even though he himself was merely another gear in the system.
Still, he wished to do something.
It was the moment when the man who had remained a gear all along first decided, of his own will, to resist the world.
From that day, Fodui began to follow Syrilis.
Society at large mocked the tale of the infamous golden wretch, cleansed by the goddess’s divine light—though such matters did not concern the man.
He stayed as close to Syrilis as possible, seeking to understand her.
He sought to know her. To find a way to free her.
But it was not enough.
In Fodui, it was never enough.
Recognition, emotion, knowledge, shared understanding—and above all, time.
To know the divine, a mortal such as Fodui lacked sufficient time.
He realized he could not understand, nor liberate, Salier himself.
Thus, Fodui devised a plan: to pass his legacy to another.
One who could comprehend the divine, and endure long enough at Salier’s side.
Such a person.
And before Fodui’s eyes, a dragon appeared—angry, unveiled in rage.
Only this one.
Fodui sensed it immediately.
A god who expressed emotion clearly—anger.
To possess emotion meant thinking akin to a human.
Yet still a god.
No other being matched these conditions.
Fodui deliberately hurled harsh words at the dragon, Guriel, testing him.
Whether he was worthy to be entrusted with Salier.
The audacity of mortals testing the divine.
I would not complain, even if I were to die as payment.
In the end, my own eyes had grown dim.
Nothing more than that.
Yes, make up your mind.
As a result, Gurye demonstrated a willingness to approach them more closely than Fodooi had imagined.
Fodui awaits.
The day when Guriel one day frees Sariel from the wedge of duty.
It may not be straightforward, but if she can gradually, over many years, free Sariel's heart, that will be enough.
Fodouei believed Salier had fulfilled her role as a cog in the mechanism long enough.
Upon examining history, one can discern figures resembling Sariel appearing and vanishing with recurring frequency.
The outcome was nearly a disastrous one.
What was done with good intentions ended up turning out for the worse.
As if being dragged into an endless well of malice.
That was how it felt to Foldui—like the very essence of human depravity.
Yet Salier continues serving the world without pause, claiming it is their duty.
Battered and broken.
Unaware even of their own wounds.
The stubborn, unyielding perseverance in fulfilling their mission—this was pitiful.
They should rest.
Even so, Foldui lacks the means to stop Salier.
Neither words nor actions can move Salier’s mind.
Foldui did not have the time to enter Salier’s heart.
Salier possesses something faintly resembling a heart.
Not a machine devoid of soul entirely.
That is why they are wounded.
That is why they can be saved.
Yet this heart, from a human perspective, is terribly small.
The fluctuation of emotion was minute—nearly nonexistent.
In Fodui, such emotion could not be appealed to.
No fluctuation sufficient to abandon a mission could be elicited.
Thus, it is entrusted.
Abandoning the mission is not necessary.
Only that Sariel should not be harmed further.
Sariel exhibits minimal emotional fluctuation, yet even so, wounds accumulate over time.
Whatever can heal those wounds will suffice.
"Leaving it to the younger ones. Though I am the far younger one myself."
Fodui dispatched Guriel to Sariel.
The mood resembled that of a marriage counselor.
Prayed to a deity he did not believe in, hoping for happiness in their future.
That wish was crushed beneath human malice.
By malice without depth, without end.