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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 102: The Final Trial
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 02:19:33 +0000 UTCAngelica and Astolfo immediately rushed up to Roland, steadying him as he staggered, unbalanced, before promptly falling onto his knees. The Demon King’s Fragment which once tormented him now rested on the chasm’s basin. Its form had returned to a paper sheet; and though faint remnants of its corrupting tendrils still lingered, searching for a new host, the others were lured not. They spared it not a glance and instead were concerned with the haggard man.
Well, not quite everyone. Lucius had no doubt that Roland would make a full recovery in no time. Thus, he strolled on over to the fragment and picked it up—wouldn’t want any more unsavory transformations, after all!
In no time, a familiar sensation washed over him, just like back at the Beast Lord’s forest. His vision turned blurry; the surroundings began to change. What once was the bottom of a deep, dark pit had been replaced with a very curious sight. There were no fields of golden wheat, no meadows or brooks, nor were there any indications that where he stood was Francia at all. Instead, he saw brief glimpses into lands of other worlds.
He saw a vast stretch of islands surrounded by an ocean of purest blue. He saw volcanic regions, magma and crag where odd civilizations of living flame made home. He saw kingdoms, empires, people and creatures of differing species. The gentleman was quite fascinated by all this potential wonder; yet, to the owner of this memory, only one wish remained nestled in their heart.
Home. They yearned to return home
———
I had been granted what I always sought after, even if it wasn’t by choice.
They took me to distant worlds far beyond my imagination.
I met strange, yet interesting, people I never knew existed.
I fought for my ideals, for justice and all that was good.
At first, I wished for this adventure to never end,
That for all of eternity I could explore the cosmos and abandon the duties of my crown.
But in time I would come to cherish it, the humble fields of my birthland.
I longed to frolic in the meadows I could never visit,
To see the smiles of my citizens, their voices long faded to whispers,
I could not go back, never again.
The land I called home was gone, destined to exist only in my memories.
Forevermore.
———
Sorrow, guilt, a quiet melancholy… the boy in the memory had always longed for an escape from his home, yet it was only when he finally left that he realized just how precious it was.
Just who exactly was this person? Who was this pitiful soul, his gentle traces left behind in these terrible evils?
Lucius supposed he would find out in time. Right now, however, more important matters had yet to be settled. That’s right—it was time to receive his rewards!
>[Congratulations! The main quest (Obtain the Second Fragment) has been completed!]<
*(NEW!) 1500 Cosmic Coins
*(NEW!) 5 Unallocated Stat Points
*(NEW!) Failure Protection Card
Description: A rare card granted by the system. When used, you may forfeit an Emergency or Main Quest without being punished. However, doing so will also mean giving up on the success rewards, as well as any additional missions linked to the questline. This card cannot be used for the Grand Quest.
With this, the gentleman had completed not one, but two quests in rapid succession! There was much to look over. Firstly, he distributed the points to his Nova stat, bringing it to an enticing eighty-six. It wouldn’t be long now before reaching his first milestone.
He had no use for the Failure Protection Card at the moment. It would certainly be useful in the future, but for now the Armor Enhancement Card and the Skill Rank-Up Card could be used right away. Lucius decided to use the armor card on his Gentleman’s Top Hat.
Gentleman’s Top Hat has been upgraded to (+1)!
Description: A black top hat made out of high quality leather and styled with a curved brim, a flat crown, and a ribbon edge trim for additional comfort. Truly, a fit made for a gentleman, and now with additional upgrades! Whilst wearing the top hat, your physical stats will be increased by 3.
Effect: Wardrobe Change (+1)!
Freely switch between different sets of clothing while wearing the Gentleman’s Top Hat. You can register a set by saving your current appearance in a slot. You have five slots in total that can be saved; but should any of the clothes be damaged beyond repair, they will be unregistered, and you will have to reset the slot.
Hoho, what a discovery! It would appear that enhancing a piece of equipment also affected its related skills as well. Lucius suspected as much when his cane sword was upgraded.
Up next was his Skill Rank-Up Card. The gentleman had been neglecting his floral skills somewhat—how ghastly for a passionate florist such as himself—so he used it on a peculiar ability that had yet to improve since he obtained it.
Fancy a Flower, Perchance? has ranked up from [Rank C] to [Rank C+]!
*[Rank C+] Fancy a Flower, Perchance? (Growth Type): Upon physically touching a flower, you may register it to this skill and store it. Using this skill allows you to summon the chosen flower whenever you wish, but should it be used as an ingredient or is damaged, the flower will be unregistered. Only three flowers may be registered at a time. Floral-type races are not accepted, as well as those of greater sizes.
Very nice. With that, Lucius’s little treasure haul was now fully distributed!
>[Number 1 Rated Salesman 1997 smokes a big fat cigar made of windshield wiper and asks Lucius what the goddamn dungery-doo is the point of investing in these schmuck-like skills. The Star is baffled that such pointless abilities even exist]<
>[Virtual Goddess of the Wired tells Lucius not to mind the other Stars. There’s no need to focus on such boorish combat, and the Goddess wishes that you always remain as dignified and kind as you are now]<
>[Sinister Interdimensional Bureaucrat looks around, but fails to find the kind soul the Goddess describes]<
A rush of message windows came flooding Lucius all at once, both from his usual celestial audience and some new fellows attracted by the racket. They were quite curious over the result of the gentleman’s mission in Arabia. Some expressed disappointment in Roland’s survival, while others cheered on, watching the show as if it were a program on the ol’ television. Which Lucius supposed it was. Out there, in the faraway heavens, even beings worshipped as gods desired to find entertainment. There really wasn’t much difference between them and ordinary people.
With his business all settled, Lucius returned to the comforts of his fellows and hosted another, much welcomed, tea party to celebrate their success.
“Oof, well ain’t that a relief, don’t ya think, huns?” Miss Rhodes said, sitting down to take a breather as the other players rested whilst the Peers attended to Roland. “My legs are already wobblin’ from all that excitement earlier. If that Roland feller turned into a demon, I reckon we’d all be callin’ this place our grave.”
Mili dunked a cookie in some milk and promptly chomped it whole. “Yup. Like, I have no clue how we survive some of this stuff. My arms and legs are pretty much like putty. We had to use everything just to attack that lip demon thing, and we didn’t even fully kill it!”
“At least the system isn’t stingy with its rewards,” Harper said, admiring her upgraded firefighter suit. “But don’t you think this is… I don’t know, kind of tame compared to the last quest?”
“Tame? Harper, a whole pyramid came crashin’ down on us,” Marco replied with a laugh. “Now, I ain’t the most graceful of folk, but ya gotta admit a fall like that’ll make even a tough guy cry for his ma.”
Miss Enapay thought otherwise, however, and shook her head. “I agree with her. Yes, the danger has been great, but not impossible. It is odd. In the expedition, pain and struggle came upon us without rest. I feel wary over this simple victory in comparison. It is as if—”
“—There’s still more to come,” Mister Crowley said, before slowly rising back up and pointing his finger up toward the chasm. “Do you all hear that? That sound… it’s getting louder.”
The players fell silent and listened closely. Indeed, there was a peculiar noise drifting about. It started off faint, and then grew louder, stronger, more violent, until not a single person among them had any doubts as to the source.
Yes, that sound was of rushing water.
“I knew it couldn’t be that easy,” Harper sighed.
Before she could continue, a loud crash roared from behind them as a giant wave poured into the chasm’s bottom and began filling their surroundings with water. In mere seconds, the flood swept through all in its path, and the players frantically grabbed the others’ hands as they were sent tumbling through a whirling torrent. They could not even shout out in surprise without being pummeled by a sudden twisting force. The water rushed into their throats, their eyes. The luminescent flowers that once brightened the cavern soon disappeared under the tide, causing darkness to surround the players and enveloping them until neither one could distinguish each other amidst the brutal oscillations.
They knew not whether they were still all together. Only the desperate tug on their arms gave any indication of life. They couldn’t breathe; they couldn’t resist. When faced against the sheer force of nature, even the demons seemed paltry in threat. Soon, they would all drown, sinking in tortured, suffocating throes as their last struggles disappeared alongside the ruins below.
The experience reminded Lucius much of the time he discovered the Lost City of Atlantis after having plunged his deep sea foe, the Kraken, into a whirlpool that brought the gentleman deep beneath the Indian Ocean. He remembered holding his breath for five long hours back then; fortunately, the dilapidated Atlantean ruins had curious devices that provided pockets of air.
Such a boon was not available here. While Lucius would be just fine, his fellows were moments away from vanishing into the waters. Just when all seemed lost, however, a golden light rained down upon them from above. A rough force scooped Lucius and his fellows up as if they were school of fish; and when the group had all coughed the water out of their lungs, they turned around to discover the relieved faces of the Peers.
“Hold on, everyone!” Astolfo shouted whilst steering his golden chariot. Angelica and Roland, exhausted though they were, took to the flying vehicle’s side and protected them from the torrential downpair. They weaved and spun all across the chasm, dodging the watery pillars for even one collision would spell the doom of them all. Closer, yet closer, they ascended high up, before breaking out into the cool evening air of the Arabian desert.
The chariot roughly descended upon the steps of the Temple Mount. The group promptly wobbled out and dropped flat on their faces, delighting in the gift of solid ground. The Saracens’ lake had refilled once more. The night sky greeted them in all its starry glory, and the buildings around them had fully extinguished their lanterns, bathing the city in a gentle stillness.
Not a soul lingered around them, no soldiers or enraged citizens come to take their heads. Instead, there was only the players, the Peers, the serene waters—
And the culprit responsible for this day’s long ordeal.
“So it has come to this, kinsmen of Francia.”
There, at the temple’s highest point, the new Emir of Arabia stood vigil under a ray of silver moonlight. He looked down upon the weary group, his eyes inscrutable and expression calm. Perhaps he had anticipated this result. Here upon this holy ground, he would conduct their final trial.
Sir Roland hobbled himself back up the best he could and approached the young Emir. The Peer was in no condition to fight after all he had been through, yet nonetheless he carried on until his gaze was set firmly on that bright, elusive figure above him.
Rather than harsh insults or demanding pleas, the first words that left Roland’s lips were an apology.
“I am sorry,” he said. Roland faced al-Balijan—the mastermind, the ruler, the child of a father he brutally slayed—and bowed his head deep in remorse. “Sir Ferragut is no longer of this world. The blame lies with me.”
The Emir did not speak for a time. Instead, he looked up to the starry sky, reflective, as a mournful air surrounded him.
“I told Ferraù his plan did not please me,” the man eventually replied. “Rather than a sacrifice, I would have much preferred a living friend. Many long hours did I spend attempting to dissuade him. Yet, the elderly are ever so stubborn, aren’t they? They believe their fates already set, that there exists no future where they may prosper. Stuck in the olden ways… such thinking would only lead us backward. For my coming years as Arabia’s leader, I would have us walk onward, to move on from the shadows of the past.”
Al-Balijan, ever slowly, descended from the Temple Mount’s steps. It was just this morning that a raging fire blazed in his azure eyes. The man before Lucius now, however, was contemplative. He beheld Roland once more, assessing him… and it was so that he saw something different, something that filled his once-resigned heart with a judgment anew.
A sliver of anticipation.
“Ferraù al-Cairo was a tortured, pitiful man. Yet in my slain father’s stead, he taught me the ways of the world as one would to their son. I respected him, and also disagreed on many occasions. He believed this nation would never recover so long that the fiends of the war still walked the land. He spoke with bitter regrets, lamented the brave warriors of the Levantine fallen before him. But, most of all, he saw himself as a coward. When Sir Ganelon came to us with dubious proposals, Ferraù pleaded to take responsibility alone. He told me not to bloody my hands with those of bygone phantoms. I should only look ahead to those golden rays of the sands’ dawn. How foolish… he could not hide the truth from me. Since the war ended all those years ago, he had only desired for a place to die.”
Finally, the Emir reached the temple’s bottom.
“Roland,” he said, embodying all that was called Arabia. “At first, I was disappointed. I had heard many tales of your exploits, both the good and bad. I heard of your slaughter, how you drenched this arid desert in rivers of flowing red, yet the Frankish merchants from beyond spoke of a different story. A savior, a great man, a hero… this and all they recounted with reverence. I was too young to remember my father’s face, much less the days of the war. I remember only how broken this city was—broken in body, in mind, in spirit. The people’s eyes were hollow, and they accepted their inevitable decline. I chose otherwise. The Arabia you see today exists only because I refused to let excuses drag me down. I would believe only in what I could see and judge for myself.”
Amidst this land of trauma and self pity, one boy, young as he was, would rally the citizens together. He saw the suffering in the world, and so he resolved to change it for the better, to serve as both flagbearer and leader so that these souls consumed by despair might discover hope once more.
“If you were truly the man who committed such depravity without remorse, then I would slay you and be done with it. There would be no personal feelings involved, no pretext of revenge or righteous murder. I would do it only because such a scourge was destined to harm again. What I found when you first crossed this city’s gate, however, was far more pathetic. I saw a shell of a man, his spirit long buried under mounds of denial and self-doubt. Was this truly it? Was this the so-called reaper my people held such hatred against? I realized then how meaningless it all was, these grudges fostered for decades. You were not worth my time, nor Arabia’s.”
Roland silently listened to the Emir’s story, never once crying refusal or moving to explain himself. He understood now the weight of his past.
“But now… I am curious,” the young ruler continued. “What I see before me is not the miserable husk of before. I see now a man, a flawed man that still yet holds potential. And so I will ask again. Roland, who is responsible for my father’s death?”
The Peer clenched his fist and took a deep breath, before responding, “Me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid, afraid of that man I called lord. I let it consume my thoughts and paralyze my morality. Thus I killed many undeserving, all for the purpose of saving myself. The emperor gave the order, but nonetheless I acted as no righteous man would ever allow.”
“Do you acknowledge it, your wrongs?”
“I do.”
“Do you take responsibility, knowing that for the rest of your life you can never fully atone?”
“If that is the punishment for my actions, then I have no cause to refuse it.”
“I see. Then, my final question… why do you still live?”
The Emir looked Roland firmly in the eye, challenging him to speak truthfully and without deceit. After all these wrongs, these transgressions, why did Roland still cling to life knowing his sins could never be forgiven?
To that, the Peer gave him, for the first time since their meeting, a response made with true conviction.
“Because for all my faults, I believe there is good I can yet do for this world. Even if the Saracens never forgive me, even if I am written down in history as a tyrant, a despicable, vile villain, then I will accept it and persevere, all so that another like me shall never be made again.”
The Emir closed his eyes and fell to a hush.
“... Very well.”
When he opened them again, he turned around and took a few steps back. He looked up at the waning moon and took a slow, thoughtful pause, before grabbing his cloak and tossing it aside, revealing a stunning rainbow veil, the very one Lucius had seen back at the ancient Saracen pyramid.
“I am Emir-al-Balijan, ruler of the Arabian Emirate and the one who shall guide these sand-worn people to a new, hopeful age,” he said, twirling like a dancer as a pair of elegant curved swords rested in his hands. “I have heard your determined words. Now, I would see to the truth personally. If you believe your cause just, I call upon you to defend it with your life!”
