NOVEL NEXT Chapter 79 - Turnabout (IV)
[Volume 2 | Chapter 79: Turnabout (IV)]
It was over.
Or so Acacia thought.
He turned to retrieve the Modern Tome from where it had fallen during their struggle... but a wet, gurgling laugh stopped him cold.
"Not... finished... yet..."
...What?
Alaric Ptolemy was conscious again.
Blood-flecked froth bubbled at his lips whilst he struggled to raise himself on one elbow. His other hand fumbled inside his jacket, withdrawing a small remote control.
"Do you... know what a Firebomb is, Belmont?" he rasped, thumb hovering over the device's single red button.
Acacia froze.
Firebombs, as he remembered reading over an experimental paper during his hospitalization, were Mystic Gears that stored the Integration Sequence for [Fiamma]—compressed and concentrated beyond safe limits. Used exclusively by the Centrum Supremum, Imperial Legion, and IPA special operations teams for controlled demolitions. Utterly illegal for civilian possession. Each one was capable of igniting everything within a thirty-foot radius in seconds.
And from the way Alaric's bloodshot eyes gleamed maliciously, Acacia knew that the noble had somehow acquired and planted them throughout the building.
"I set them... everywhere... Every floor. Every corner. If I couldn't complete the ritual... if I can't gain the power promised to me... then none of us walk away."
His thumb pressed down on the button.
Nothing happened.
Alaric's face contorted, confused, and then it gave way to realization.
"...Of course," he wheezed through broken teeth. "They're modified... need a thaumaturgical trigger..."
With the last of his strength, he raised his hand toward the ceiling.
"[Fiamma]!"
A small, concentrated fireball launched upward, striking a small metallic device affixed to one of the exposed pipes. For a second, nothing happened, which made Acacia sigh a breath of relief, thinking that the electricity from before short-circuited the device—
Then all hell broke loose.
A deafening roar filled the air as every Firebomb in the building exploded simultaneously. The world around them became an inferno of flame and shrapnel. The water around them began to boil instantly as secondary detonations cascaded through the structure. Walls cracked, support beams groaned, and the ceiling began to collapse in sections.
But most terrifying of all, the water itself ignited. It was a specialized [Fiamma] variant in the Firebombs designed to burn even through liquid, creating a hellscape of flame that spread across the surface of the flood like a living entity.
"If I'm going to lose... I'll take everything with me!"
Alaric's final act was an epitaph to his selfishness and arrogance.
Acacia didn't have time to hate him.
With the room rapidly collapsing and the water becoming a roiling mass of flame, his options were limited. He needed to escape, and fast. But the exit was blocked by debris, and the stairs had already vanished behind a curtain of fire.
Alaric had finally fallen unconscious. He slumped back into the burning water. Left like that, he would drown or burn within seconds.
Acacia paused, every logical part of his mind screaming at him to save himself. Alaric Ptolemy was everything he despised about the Tachyon Empire. Privilege without merit, cruelty without consequence, power without responsibility. He was Giovanni Narma reborn, another tormentor who had tried to crush Acacia beneath his heel simply because he could.
He should leave him. It would be justice. It would be fair.
Yet his body moved before his mind decided.
With a grunt, Acacia hoisted Alaric's limp form over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, nearly buckling under the dead weight.
"I must be insane," he muttered, staggering toward what appeared to be the least obstructed path through the flames…
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The heat was unbearable. The air was so thick with smoke that each breath felt like inhaling broken glass. The crackle and roar of the flames became a deafening symphony of destruction; it was almost musical in its intense nature.
Like music... like singing…
"Aunt Miyoko, why's the sky red?"
"Don't look, [ ]. Keep your eyes closed."
"B-But I can hear people screaming!"
"I know, little one. I know."
Acacia gasped, dragging himself back to the present through sheer force of will. He was panicking, terrified that he'd have another episode. But it wasn't so bad. He could handle these memories. His breathing was labored, his steps uneven, his vision blurring from the smoke, but he pressed on.
Focus. Move. Survive.
A support beam crashed down inches from him, sending sparks and embers cascading over his already singed clothing. The Modern Tome, clutched tightly in his free hand, felt like it was growing heavier with each passing second.
The exit—where was the exit?
The smoke was far too thick now to see anything; Acacia's lungs burned, and his vision distorted at the edges.
He couldn't last much longer in this hell.
That reminded him so much of…
"We're too late for the others. We have to go, [ ]!"
"But Mama and Papa—"
"There's... T-There's nothing we can do for them now! We have to live for them!"
Another wave of panic. Another memory of flames and death. Acacia stumbled, nearly dropping Alaric as his legs threatened to give out. The weight on his shoulders felt impossible now, like carrying the corpse of his own past through the inferno of his nightmares.
Acacia... didn't have anything left.
He collapsed, Alaric's body falling from his grasp as he sank to his knees. The fire roared around him, mocking his efforts, devouring everything that made him who he was.
Was this it?
Was this truly how he was going to die?
Trapped in a nightmare, reliving his darkest memories, unable to save himself or even his enemy?
Then he saw it.
Through the smoke and chaos, a sound cut through—the whistle of something slicing through air, followed by a voice calling out a command:
"[Aqua]!"
A massive wall of water materialized before him, parting the flames like a divine hand. The sudden shift from blistering heat to a cool mist was so shocking that Acacia nearly lost consciousness on the spot.
A figure strode through the gap in the flames, silhouetted against the comparative darkness beyond. In his hand gleamed a magnificent flamberge sword, an undulating blade catching the firelight as it cut elegant arcs through the air. With each swing, more water materialized, beating back the inferno.
"Well, well, my moonbeam's ward rescuing our little fiend. Now I've truly seen everything."
He could have cried.
It was Ezio Pelagius.
Wielding the legendary Marecanto, Regalia of the House of Pelagius.
"Sir Pelagius," Acacia gasped.
"Save your strength, Mr. Belmont," Ezio replied, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something more efficient. "Follow me precisely. This building has perhaps thirty seconds before falling on top of us."
He carved a path through the flames with Marecanto. Every time he swung the blade, it conjured another water surge that temporarily cleared their way.
The journey through the burning building became a blur of heat, smoke, and the rhythmic swish of Ezio's blade. Time stretched and compressed, seconds feeling like hours while minutes passed in heartbeats. Acacia's world narrowed to the simple command of following the knight, keep moving, don't fall.
And then, suddenly, cool night air slapped his face like a benediction.
They were outside, the blazing industrial complex now behind them.
Acacia dropped to his knees, Alaric sliding from his shoulders to sprawl beside him.
"The Modern Tome," Ezio said, extending his hand. "You've done well, but that needs to be secured before the authorities arrive."
Acacia still didn't understand how the book was still intact in the face of everything it had just gone through.
"How did you... why are you...?"
"Questions for another time. The Modern Tome, if you please. The IPA will be here momentarily, and it would be rather problematic if they were to take possession of it."
Too drained to argue, Acacia relinquished the ancient tome. As soon as it left his grasp, he felt lighter somehow, as if some burden had been lifted along with its weight.
Ezio tucked the tome inside his coat; he seemed to have been wearing rather plain clothes in comparison to his typical military attire back at the Northern Spire.
"Her Excellency will be most impressed with your performance tonight. Rest now."
Before Acacia could respond, Ezio traced a complex pattern in the air with his free hand. "[Aqua Chimaera]," he whispered, and his form seemed to blur until he faded from view entirely.
In the distance, sirens grew louder by the second. Flashing lights painted the night sky in alternating patterns of red and blue. The IPA had arrived, drawn by reports of explosions and a building engulfed in flame.
And behind them, running ahead of the official vehicles, came familiar figures.
Leila's raven hair streaming behind her.
Noelle's distinctive uniform.
Sirius's wild ginger hair.
Eleanor's elegant silhouette.
Elias's athletic frame.
His friends. His allies. Perhaps even, in some strange way, he was still learning to understand his family.
His last thought, before darkness claimed him completely, was a question he couldn't answer:
Why did I save him?
The answer would have to wait. For now, as Windsor's authorities descended upon the burning ruins of Oakridge Path Industrial Complex, Acacia Belmont surrendered to oblivion, his mission complete.
"Well done, my tumor."