Chapter 190

# Episode 190: The Tin Knight and the Dream of Butterflies

When you opened your eyes, you realized you were standing in some ruins.

…?

That was quite the strange situation.

Just moments ago, you had been riding in a wagon with your colleagues.

“I’ve heard plenty of rumors, but seeing it firsthand is quite different,” you thought.

However, before you could fully grasp the situation, a voice from directly in front caught your attention.

A vivid red head swayed in the air.

A splendid red dress fluttered around her.

Even the color of her shoes, split in two at the front, was red.

Like a lone rose blooming vibrantly on a green field.

Or a dancer on stage, gathering the attention of the audience.

A woman, embodying the very essence of flamboyance, smiled at you.

Her beauty would make any man’s heart flutter, but you weren’t swayed by her looks.

The smell of blood emanating from her body was too intense.

You knew that dress, which she wore, was originally a deep green.

Those who had been captivated by her beauty had dyed it crimson, transforming it into a shroud.

“What a magnificent knight! Why are you here? All those who should protect this place have fled; why do you remain?” she asked.

You had no intention of answering.

Not only did the situation make no sense, but you also didn’t have a mouth to speak.

“—To take you down.”

Yet somehow, those words slipped out.

You were producing a voice that shouldn’t exist from a mouth that wasn’t there.

The woman’s face flushed as if your words were a declaration of love.

“Is that so? Then there’s no help for it. I suppose I shall dance,” she said.

The woman stepped back with one foot, bending her knees as if inviting you to dance like a lady at a ball.

But that moment was brief.

*Thwack!*

The next instant, the woman vanished without a trace.

You swung the shield strapped to your left arm behind you.

*Boom!*

The shield clashed with the heel of the woman’s shoe, creating a huge shockwave.

In the desolate ruins that once housed a royal palace of a kingdom, an unexpected commotion erupted.

Giggles echoed through the silence.

The woman laughed, as if pleased that you had managed to defend against her attack.

“Most would have their head split open by that. Now, how about this?” she taunted.

Her long legs bent like willows and lunged toward you.

*Boom!*

The sound of shield meeting shoe resonated, with a delayed shockwave rippling outwards.

A familiar sensation washed over your left arm, as if you had just blocked a catapult strike, but this was just the beginning.

*Thwack, tap, tap.*

Amidst the rhythmical hoofbeats, vicious attacks mixed with malice were launched at you.

*Bang! Crash! Bang bang!*

Even though she favored the large, gap-filled movements of kicks, her strikes flowed smoothly like water.

It wasn’t just her physical abilities showing superiority, but rather the weight of the powers she possessed that mattered more.

Her teleportation had nearly zero preparation time.

The distance of her moves was minuscule, not even half a step, but that didn’t matter.

What mattered was that she could dictate her position after teleporting.

If she returned to her stance before launching an attack, it was effectively as if there were no openings in her movements.

Combine that with her original teleportation ability that allowed her to cover greater distances with slightly longer preparation times, and the result was a nightmare.

Just as you blocked a kick coming straight at you with your shield, a shock struck your back, close to your abdomen.

A blade that sliced through the air targeted your vulnerable core, while a heavy descending kick struck down on your shoulder like an axe.

The distance between weapons, their spacing, the gaps in breath.

All crucial elements in combat were thoroughly manipulated by an ability that bordered on divine.

Faced with such outrageous cheating, countless knights kneeled before her.

Generals from various nations clutched their heads and screamed as her moves rendered sorcerers and archers powerless in an instant.

To avoid being assassinated by a woman who could cross spaces as she pleased, rulers had to hide their bodies in windowless rooms.

Despair reigned wherever they went.

Even as darkness spread its territory, the brilliant light from the sky did not shine upon the ground.

Yet you did not drop your sword.

Even knowing this alone couldn’t protect you completely, you held onto your shield.

—To endure just a little longer.

Even while knowing your sword couldn’t reach her, you kept it firm in your grip.

—Because if you let go, not even a single opportunity would come your way.

You braced yourself, holding on stubbornly.

Predicting her bizarre attacks, you let the shocks wash over you.

Not only had you focused on strengthening your body with magical power, but you also trained to utilize magic itself as another shield.

Recognizing the strength of your opponent while accepting your own weaknesses.

Believing that you just needed to close that gap in this very moment.

*Rustle!*

After countless trials and errors, finally, your sword made contact with the woman.

The red woman’s right foot flew in midair, and then dropped heavily to the ground.

What had looked like a high-heeled shoe lost its ethereal charm and transformed into a deer’s hoof upon losing the power of the illusion.

“What is this…?” she gasped, her severed ankle dripping blood as she stared in shock with wide eyes.

You took a moment to catch your breath.

Every part of your body ached and stung.

Had a few of your ribs broken and punctured your insides? You coughed as blood splattered out.

Anyone would agree you should be laying in bed instead of wielding a sword, yet you felt strangely satisfied.

The strongest weapon your opponent possessed was her mobility.

If a woman with teleportation skills decided to run for it, capturing her would be an arduous task, no matter the circumstances.

Thus, she must not be allowed to escape.

You had to trap her into charging at you while ensuring she thought she could decisively finish you off.

Today, you intended to finish off one of the Eight Treasures.

As emotions of vengeance or perhaps delight swirled within you, the woman raised her heels high.

You lifted your sword.

And then—

“—Hey! Can’t you hear me?”

*Thwack!*

With a sound that was more controlled than usual, your vision flipped.

***

“Where have you left your mind?”

Upon hearing a voice from above, you dully raised your head.

Your contracted witch, Dorothea, looked down at you with an annoyed expression.

You glanced around.

Inside the familiar wagon.

Sofia, absorbed in her writings, sat on the driver’s seat; Adelheid was sprinting behind the wagon; and inside the cargo area, Rapunzel and her newly acquired white attendant were seated.

Feeling somewhat bewildered, you found it hard to gather your thoughts quickly.

“…What’s wrong?”

Noticing something was amiss with you, a flicker of concern appeared in Dorothea’s eyes.

You couldn’t answer her, quietly looking down at your hand.

A cold mass of iron.

At first glance, it might resemble a man in armor, but the content is anything but human.

The warmth of someone else, the softness of touch, were never granted to you.

Thus, the vivid image of what you had just experienced came rushing back like an echo.

The thick scent of blood.

The sharp pangs of pain.

The breaths you inhaled and exhaled, and the intense pulsing of your heart.

You are you.

But in that moment, you weren’t you.

That absurd truth threw you into confusion, but you quickly realized.

That vision, that conversation, that fight—

Was a memory from the predecessor who had lent you this body.

As you scratched your head, pondering how to explain this, you decided to just blurt it out.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ seems to have had a daydream!]

“A magical automaton having a dream? …No, is it not?”

Dorothea tilted her head, then gestured to Gale.

Gale replied, “When asking something you don’t know, it’s better to express exactly what you want rather than just giving hints; otherwise, you might end up with a bizarre answer.”

In an instant, Dorothea looked frustrated, but maybe she finally realized that throwing a tantrum would only cost her, as she relaxed her shoulders and said, “Can a magical automaton dream?”

“For a regular magical automaton, it would be impossible. But, since you, as the Tin Knight, are a special case like our Sig, it’s not surprising that an unusual phenomenon can occur,” Gale explained.

She continued with various other explanations, but you caught only half of it.

Your attention fell on Gale’s legs.

More precisely, you were distracted by the shoes she wore.

Shoes tend to easily lose their gloss and get dirty due to their very function, but her silver shoes sparkled without a single speck of dust, as if they were magical items, or perhaps Gale’s thorough maintenance.

Yet for some reason, in your eyes, those shoes seemed red.

Like they were soaked in blood, a vivid red.

“So, what was that dream about?” Dorothea asked, bringing your focus back.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ dreamed of fighting an incredibly strong foe!]

“Ah, I see. Not much different from usual,” she said.

Dorothea’s expression went from cautious to utterly disinterested in the blink of an eye.

You could see it on her face: ‘What was I thinking taking you seriously?’ was the unspoken sentiment.

“Well, we have strayed a bit off topic, but what are you going to do now?”

[The ‘Tin Knight’ remembers to specify when asking questions!]

“That’s something you didn’t hear while you were dozing off! The cases are different!”

After a tiny growl, Dorothea crossed her arms, her unique yet slightly thicker curves deflating a bit.

“So, about the food. Do you want some?”

[The ‘Tin Knight’ requests further explanation!]

“If you’re the only one standing by while everyone eats, that wouldn’t sit right, would it? If you want, I can fix that, or rather, add a function.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ asks if that’s really possible!]

The response came not from Dorothea, but from Gale.

“Strictly speaking, it’s not a function of ‘being able to eat something,’ but rather ‘sharing the sensations of someone eating something.’ It should be much easier than reconstructing your whole digestive system.”

However, Gale added, “Is that really okay for the content of ‘cooperation’? Honestly, I thought you would ask for an Eight Treasure instead.”

The duel that unfolded within the library.

Before the fight began, Dorothea had mentioned exchanging something in return for a fair match.

One was used for aiding the search for the North Witch, whose whereabouts were elusive; thus only one remained.

“Doesn’t matter. The order we gather them in just changes, that’s all.”

Nonchalantly, Dorothea declared.

“Managing the morale of your servant is part of a master’s responsibility. It’s more rational and beneficial in the long run to take care of this one’s mental state than worrying about picking up another treasure,” she asserted.

“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t mind. But Dorothea sure loves to beat around the bush. I don’t think it’s something to be shy about when passing on goodwill—<Clang!>—Oops, isn’t swinging a staff at someone a bit too much?”

“Who are you to say that!?”

You stared blankly at the bickering black-and-white witch.

Without even answering, it seemed as if restoring your sense of taste was an impending certainty.

A complex feeling welled up within you.

Recovering the Eight Treasures was the main goal of this journey.

Putting that aside to gain a function that wouldn’t even aid in battle was, by any calculation, an inefficient and unreasonable deal.

What flabbergasted you more was that it was not just someone else, but the Black Witch who had concluded such a judgment.

However, you didn’t want to oppose it.

You, the Tin Knight, and even you outside the monitor.

With the overwhelming vividness of a life felt in your memories, letting it go felt difficult.

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