Chapter 92.2: Shatter, Scatter, Hate (8) Part 2
Clara tilted her head, fiddling with the mask.
Thoughts raced through her mind.
The letter requesting the Saintess.
The boy's horrific injuries.
The word "surgery" that the Saintess had spoken.
And finally, the plain white mask found in the corner of the living room.
"...Don't tell me."
The scattered puzzle pieces began to fall into place.
The picture they formed shocked Clara to her core.
"Oh my god..."
The words slipped past her lips, barely a whisper.
Clara finally understood.
She realized the gravity of their misunderstanding.
***
"So, Clara, are you saying..."
"Yes, Allen. Lishite... he was the masked man."
Clara nodded at Allen, who stared at her in disbelief.
In her hand lay the plain white mask she had found in the living room.
"That's... impossible..."
Allen's face contorted slightly.
The shocking truth, revealed a moment too late, left him speechless.
Of course, the other children were no different.
"Raiden... was the masked man? And he called for the Saintess... to treat his wounds...?"
Margaret's voice trembled, unlike her usual self.
Clara, wrestling with her own complex emotions, gave a vague nod.
"...Perhaps."
Although her words conveyed uncertainty,
They were laced with at least ninety percent certainty.
Perhaps sensing this, Margaret fell silent.
"..."
"..."
The truth brought a deathly silence.
It was Lorraine who broke the heavy quiet.
She approached them, looking exhausted after tending to Raiden.
"Haah... Well, I managed to close all the wounds. He's deeply asleep, so he should be fine with enough rest..."
"..."
As if drained,
Lorraine wiped the blood off her hands with a shaky breath.
Clara spoke up, her voice cautious,
"Saintess."
"Yes, Clara?"
"What... exactly happened to Young Master Lishite?"
"..."
Lorraine's golden eyes flickered.
She seemed troubled, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Her gaze fell upon the mask in Clara's hand, and she let out a sigh.
"I'm not sure. Raiden didn't tell me anything specific. However..."
"However?"
"...What you're all thinking might be correct. His wounds were definitely caused by the monsters."
"..."
Her words lent credence to Clara's suspicions.
The children's expressions darkened.
Margaret, who seemed the most disturbed, stammered,
"T-Then... what about what we just saw? Was that also because of his injuries?"
"That seemed more like a mental issue than a physical one... but I'm not well-versed in such matters..."
Perhaps Eivy knows more about the mind.
Lorraine added quietly.
At her words, Eivy, who had been silent until now, stepped forward.
"As a matter of fact, I was just about to speak."
Eivy's expression was grim.
Taking a deep breath, she continued,
"From what I can tell... his mental state is incredibly unstable. He could go into shock and die at any moment."
"What...?"
"To put it bluntly, his mind is on the verge of collapse... I've never seen someone so mentally... broken."
Eivy's explanation, though delivered calmly, was chilling.
Allen, his face etched with worry, asked,
"T-Then... what do we do? If we leave him like this..."
"He dies. Without a sliver of hope."
"T-Then... is there nothing we can do...?"
"There is one thing."
Eivy raised her right hand.
A faint green aura flickered around her slender fingertips.
"You've all heard of the spell 'Soul Link,' haven't you?"
'Soul Link.'
A hereditary ability passed down through the direct lineage of House Roben, one of the three Dukal families of the Empire, also known as the Wings of the Empire.
It was a mental-type magic that allowed the caster to interfere with and adjust another person's consciousness.
It was said to be the rarest magic on the continent, second only to 'Teleportation.'
"I can use my magic to link our consciousnesses with Young Master Lishite's. That way, we can access his mind and I can try to fix what's broken."
"Wait, isn't that dangerous? We'd be sharing his emotions. What if our minds collapse too...?"
"It's alright. There are five of us. Even if we share Young Master Lishite's emotions, they'll be divided amongst us."
"I see..."
"In other words, we'll only feel, at most, twenty percent of what Young Master Lishite is feeling."
Eivy reassured Allen, her tone confident.
She truly believed it would be safe.
After all, there was no way someone with a mind so damaged that it could shatter the minds of five people could exist.
"Everyone, please hold hands with the person next to you."
Eivy extended her hand towards the others,
Arranging them in a circle around Raiden.
As Margaret and Clara clasped hands, Eivy drew upon her mana, pushing it to its limits.
"Then... let's begin."
Her words hung in the air, followed by,
"Soul Link."
The children's consciousnesses blinked out.
.
.
.
Thirty minutes passed.
As the spell's duration neared its end,
The children, their consciousnesses linked with Raiden's, returned.
"..."
"..."
They remained silent,
Standing frozen, before collapsing to the floor one by one.
Their faces, pale and drawn,
Soon contorted in agony, and they began to retch.
"Ugh...!"
"Aah... Aaah...!!"
"Stop it, stop it...! I don't want this! No more...!"
"I'm sorry, Mother... I'm sorry I survived..."
Contrary to Eivy's assurances,
The children were far from alright.
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