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[FT: O King of the Fairies] Chapter 70
🕑 Added 2025-04-12 12:10:27 +0000 UTCI exhaled, letting the weight of the battle settle. Precht was down. His magic was gone.
I had won as expected.
But it wasn’t over.
I turned—my gaze snapping toward the battlefield where Gildarts and Ur were still locked in combat with the Seven Kin of Purgatory.
A stalemate.
Gildarts stood tall, fists clenched, his coat tattered but his grin unwavering. Ur, breath heavy, frost dancing at her fingertips, her magic still flaring strong. Across from them, Azuma, Kain Hikaru, and the others remained standing, bruised but defiant.
This was taking too long.
Time to change that.
I vanished.
The air shattered as I reappeared mid-air, golden rifts snapping open behind me.
Weapons. Dozens of them. Swords, spears, hammers, guns.
All primed. All aimed.
“Move.”
Gildarts and Ur didn’t hesitate. They darted back just as I let hell rain down.
The battlefield erupted.
The moment my weapons struck, the battlefield detonated.
Explosions of steel and magic tore through the Seven Kin’s formation, scattering them like debris in a storm. Azuma barely had time to brace before a colossal greatsword crashed into his guard, sending him skidding back. Kain roared in protest, but a barrage of enchanted bullets ripped through his Doll Magic, leaving him exposed.
I didn’t stop.
More rifts. More weapons.
They had been holding their own against Gildarts and Ur—but against me? Against the infinite?
They never stood a chance.
Azuma gritted his teeth, attempting to retaliate, his magic coiling around the earth beneath him. But before he could unleash an attack—
BOOM.
Gildarts was there. His fist met Azuma’s chest, and the world fractured beneath the force. The Grimoire Heart mage was hurled back, crashing into the wreckage of the ship’s hull.
Ur followed suit, her ice magic spiking through the air, freezing two of their remaining fighters in solid crystal.
One by one, they fell.
Until finally—
Silence.
Dust settled over the battlefield. The ship, broken and battered, loomed behind us. The Seven Kin of Purgatory were defeated.
But there was still one left.
Ultear stood at the edge of the wreckage, her hands clenched at her sides.
Frozen.
Her allies were beaten. Precht was gone. She had followed this path for so long, convinced she was walking toward something greater.
But now—
Now she didn’t know what to do.
Ur stepped forward, her gaze locked onto the daughter she had thought lost.
I waited.
No one spoke.
Ultear’s lips parted slightly, as if to say something—anything.
But nothing came.
Ur took another step forward. Then another.
Her hands trembled, but she didn’t stop.
“Ultear…”
The name barely left her lips before Ultear’s shoulders tensed. Her head lifted just enough for her eyes to be visible beneath her dark bangs—burning with raw hatred.
Ur froze.
“I—”
“You don’t get to say my name,” Ultear spat.
Her voice was hoarse, shaking—not from sorrow, but from rage.
Ur’s expression crumbled for a split second before she steadied herself. “I know you’re angry—”
“Angry?” Ultear laughed, but there was nothing warm in it. “You think this is anger?”
She pushed herself to her feet, the remains of her tattered cloak billowing slightly. Her fists clenched, her breathing ragged.
“I spent my whole life hating you,” she said, voice shaking. “Hating everythingl. Hating the lies I was fed, the life I was denied—because of you.”
Ur took another step, but Ultear immediately stepped back, as if touching her would be poison.
“You left me.” Her voice cracked. “You gave up on me.”
“That’s not true—”
“Shut up.”
Ur flinched, but Ultear wasn’t finished.
“You don’t get to fix this.” Her eyes gleamed with something dark, something shattered. “I don’t forgive you.”
The wind howled between them.
Ur opened her mouth—then closed it.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say.
I exhaled slowly, stepping forward.
Ultear barely spared me a glance, her attention locked on Ur, seething.
That was fine.
I reached into the Celestial Inventory. A single thought. A single command.
And it appeared.
A small, ornate hourglass. The Hourglass of Remembrance.
It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t illusion. It was truth.
Ultear’s eyes flickered toward it. “What is that?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned it over.
And time unraveled.
Shadows stretched, twisting and morphing, flickering like dying embers before solidifying into something more. Something real.
A memory.
No—a truth long buried.
The cold, sterile halls of the Bureau of Magical Development took shape before us, white walls pristine and clinical, utterly devoid of warmth. Figures in white coats moved with detached precision, barely sparing glances at the desperate woman standing in the center—
Ur.
Her breath came fast and uneven, fists clenched at her sides. Ice clung to her fingertips, spiderwebbing across the floor, crawling up the walls, warping the air with sheer, unrestrained emotion.
Across from her, two doctors stood stiffly.
Their faces were impassive. They had done this before.
The older one—a man with graying hair and the sharp gaze of someone used to lying—sighed. “Miss Ur, please. We’ve explained this. Your daughter…” He hesitated for effect, then delivered the blow. “She didn’t make it.”
Ur inhaled sharply as if struck.
"You're lying."
The doctor’s face remained passive. "We did everything we could."
Ur’s magic spiked. The air turned frigid. Ice cracked beneath her boots. “I want to see her.”
The younger doctor shifted. Uncomfortable. Hesitant. But the older one remained firm. "There’s nothing left to see."
Ur froze.
Her entire body locked up, her mind screaming at her to fight, to lash out, to force them to take her to her child—
But what if they were telling the truth?
What if… what if she had already lost her?
Her hands trembled. The ice beneath her spread, creeping toward the doctors.
She didn’t care.
She didn’t care about anything anymore.
What was left to fight for?
The image shifted.
A grave.
Freshly dug. The name engraved on the stone blurred, but Ur knelt before it, her hands trembling as she placed a small bouquet of flowers at its base.
Tears slipped down her face.
Silent.
Endless.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t wail.
There was no point.
Her child was dead.
She was alone.
And there was no magic in the world that could bring her back.
The ice around her was suffocating, but she welcomed it. If this cold swallowed her whole, she wouldn’t mind.
But then—
Another shift.
A small, sterile chamber.
A child, no older than four, curled against the wall.
Ultear.
She was tiny, her thin arms wrapped around herself, shivering—not from cold, but from the crushing weight of isolation.
Her small hands pressed against the glass of her containment cell, fingers trembling. Her dark eyes—wide, filled with confusion, with fear—darted around the room.
"Mom…?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
No one answered.
She pounded on the glass. “Mommy! Mommy, I’m here!”
Still, no one came.
A shadow loomed outside. A different doctor. This one smirked as he watched her struggle.
“So much magical potential…” he mused, tapping his clipboard. “It would be a waste to let it go.”
Ultear kept crying, kept screaming—
But the doctor turned away.
And then—
The image flickered.
Another shift.
Ultear, older. Stronger.
She stood just outside a village. A place covered in snow.
She knew this place.
She had run.
Escaped.
And she had come here, back to the mother she had been told abandoned her, back to the place she had dreamed of returning to—
But then, she saw them.
Two boys.
A white-haired one and a black-haired one.
Training with her mother. Smiling.
Living the life she had been denied.
Ultear’s breath hitched.
Her hands clenched into fists.
She had been replaced.
The Bureau had been right.
Her mother didn’t want her.
She had never wanted her.
She turned away.
And the hatred took root.
The image flickered again—
And then shattered.
Ur staggered back, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, her eyes darting wildly between the two scenes—between herself and her daughter.
The past she never saw.
The lie she had been forced to accept.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
The ice at her feet cracked.
“No.”
The voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.
Ultear.
She hadn’t moved.
Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms so hard they threatened to draw blood.
Her body trembled, but her voice was firm. “No.”
Ur tore her gaze away from the illusion, locking onto her daughter. “Ultear—”
“No!” Ultear’s voice cracked, raw and shaking. She shot up her hands, gripping the sides of her head. “I don’t—I don’t care! I don’t want to see this!”
But her eyes betrayed her.
They stayed locked on the hourglass, unable to look away.
Ur took a slow, unsteady step forward. “Ultear… they lied to us.”
Ultear squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop.”
“They stole you from me.”
“Shut up.”
“They took you, locked you away, and told me you were dead—”
“I SAID SHUT UP!”
Her magic surged.
Ultear’s magic exploded.
Darkness surged outward, writhing like a living thing, but it wasn’t alone.
Ice bloomed.
Jagged spires of blackened frost erupted from the ground, crawling up the walls, consuming everything. The ship’s frame groaned under the weight of her power, shuddering as if on the verge of collapse.
She was losing control.
A child screaming in the dark.
A child drowning in hatred.
Two forces warring within her—and neither would win.
I moved.
So did Gildarts.
But before either of us could reach her—
Ur stepped forward.
I reached out. “Ur—”
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t shield herself.
She embraced her daughter.
Ultear’s eyes snapped open, glowing with raw, unchecked power. The ice lashed out.
Piercing.
Tearing.
Cutting through flesh.
Ur did not let go.
Her arms tightened, pulling Ultear against her, even as ice buried itself into her back, her sides, her shoulders—even as it tore through muscle, piercing deep.
Her lips pressed against Ultear’s hair, her voice a whisper, soft, unwavering.
“I’m here.”
Ultear froze.
Her breathing hitched, body trembling in her mother’s arms. The ice—her own ice, the ice she had never used before, the ice she had inherited from the woman she thought abandoned her, kept spreading.
She could feel Ur’s blood seeping through her clothes.
Warm.
Too warm.
Her fingers twitched. “I… I…”
Ur’s hold didn’t waver.
“You don’t have to fight anymore.”
Ultear shook. “I—”
“I’ve got you.”
More ice surged. More spikes pierced through Ur’s body.
But she didn’t let go.
Ultear gasped, her body shaking violently in Ur’s arms. The ice—her ice—kept growing, jagged spires tearing through Ur’s body, yet Ur didn’t even flinch.
Didn’t push her away.
Didn’t shield herself.
She just held her.
“It’s okay.”
Ultear’s breath hitched.
Okay?
Nothing was okay.
Her mother—her mother, the woman she had hated, cursed, blamed for everything—was bleeding out in her arms, and it was her fault.
Her hands trembled. She tried to pull away, but Ur held her tighter. Firm. Steady. Unshakable.
“You’re my daughter,” Ur whispered. “That won’t change.”
Ultear’s world cracked.
No.
No, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She had spent years believing she was thrown away. That she was abandoned. That her mother had never loved her.
But the truth—the truth hurt more than any lie.
Ur had searched for her.
Had never stopped loving her.
And now, she was dying in her arms.
Because of her.
Her magic flared again, spiraling out of control.
She couldn’t stop it.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Too much. It was too much.
“I—I can’t—”
Ur shushed her gently, her voice soft despite the blood dripping from her lips. “Yes, you can.”
Ultear clenched her teeth.
Her body was shaking. Her heart was breaking.
Ultear’s body trembled, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The ice surrounding them loomed like a frozen storm—jagged, unrelenting, an extension of her pain.
But Ur didn’t let go.
Even as the ice stabbed into her flesh. Even as blood soaked her clothes. Even as her body grew weaker with every second.
She held on.
"You're my daughter."
The words shattered something inside Ultear.
The ice cracked.
A flood of memories—real memories—poured into her mind.
She saw herself as a child, wrapped in warmth, cradled in her mother’s arms. She saw Ur’s face, gentle, loving, whispering stories to her before she fell asleep. She saw the way Ur would hold her tiny hands in hers, brushing away her tears when she cried.
She had been loved.
Always.
The Bureau had stolen those memories. Twisted them, filled her with hatred, convinced her she had been abandoned.
But now—
Now she could see.
The truth was in her mother’s eyes. In her arms. In the way she refused to let go, even as Ultear’s magic threatened to tear her apart.
"I was never strong enough to protect you." Ur’s voice wavered. "But I’ll never leave you again."
A sob tore from Ultear’s throat.
The ice around them shattered.
Gone.
Melted into nothing.
And for the first time in years—
Ultear clung to her mother. Not in anger. Not in hatred.
But as a daughter.
