**Chapter 151**
—
At Kyeon’s words, Willet’s eyes twitched faintly.
Catching that reaction, Kyeon whispered,
“Hey, Willet Christol, choose wisely.”
“……”
“If you keep stiffening your neck and refuse to obey me, I’ll truly kill them.”
Kyeon shook the pistol in his hand threateningly.
Willet’s gaze wavered toward the gun.
Pleased with that response, Kyeon continued,
“But if you follow my words, I’ll let them go unharmed. I don’t have a hobby of slaughtering civilians.”
“……”
“So choose. Will you die here together with them, or die alone while taking the blame for everything?”
Crossing his arms as if he had finished speaking, Kyeon waited.
At that sight, Willet muttered inwardly.
‘…So this is what comes of surviving disgracefully.’
The reason Kyeon, the new mayor and governor of Arcane, was being so petty was obvious.
He wanted to break the symbol of the rebels, strip the people of hope.
‘If that happens, there will be no second Willet Christol, no third rebellion.’
As befitting a man of Dormund who had waged countless wars of conquest, he knew how to rule colonies.
It was an impossibly troublesome situation.
Willet was not afraid of death itself, but the will of the revolution being crushed was unacceptable.
Yet he could not gamble with the lives of the citizens.
The reason he had opposed Dormund at all was because of those very people gathered in the square.
‘A revolution built on the sacrifice of Arcane’s citizens would have no meaning.’
Torn, Willet finally spoke, stalling for time.
“What… do you want me to do?”
At those words, Kyeon grinned.
“It’s simple. Deny everything you’ve done.”
“…Deny?”
“Yes. Deny defying me, deny giving false hope to Arcane’s citizens. Beyond that, deny your pride, your honor—deny it all.”
Willet lowered his head.
“…And that will be enough?”
“Yes. That will be enough.”
Willet gave no further reply.
Seeing this, Kyeon chuckled and waved his hand.
“Move the criminal to the execution platform—!”
At his command, two security police approached and dragged Willet away.
Because he had no arms, they dragged him by the hair, and the blood dripping from his body left a long red line on the ground.
The citizens in the square groaned at the sight.
“Ah….”
“Lord Willett!”
“How could they treat him like that….”
Murmurs burst forth, and some even broke into tears.
The security police ruled Arcane with violence.
The only one who had stood as a defender for the people was Willet Christol.
To see him, bloodied, dragged away—it was a sight they never wished to witness.
The square grew tumultuous, until Kyeon fired into the air and shouted,
“From now on, anyone who opens their mouth will be deemed a rebel!”
“…!”
“If you don’t want your head cut off and fed to crows alongside that rebel, keep your mouths shut!”
The citizens clamped their mouths shut in fright.
Meanwhile, Willet, with the help of the executioner, mounted the scaffold.
“……”
From the elevated height, all of Arcane spread out before his eyes.
After gazing at the scenery for a moment, Willet shut his eyes tightly.
‘Is the choice I’m about to make the right one?’
He was uncertain.
He had lived many years, but never had he been so torn.
Was it right to deny everything for their lives?
Would a revolution achieved through their sacrifice hold meaning?
Conflict upon conflict.
As Willet stared at the citizens with wavering eyes, he spotted a boy and girl, on the verge of tears.
“……”
In that instant, his shaken heart grew calm again.
The turmoil in his mind cleared as though a weight had lifted.
And Willet murmured,
“…The answer was set from the beginning.”
The small realization in his final moment revived his fading spirit.
Just then, Kyeon shouted,
“Willet Christol! Begin!”
At that cry, Willet raised his head.
The citizens’ eyes widened—when a shocking statement spilled forth.
“I, Willet Christol, am a criminal.”
In that instant, Arcane’s last pride crumbled.
—
—
Willett Christol’s confession began.
“I started a rebellion out of personal greed.”
As the confession went on, the citizens’ hearts shattered.
But Willet’s speech did not stop.
“Everything I have done—every word, every action—was for money and power.”
“…!”
“There was no lofty cause, no noble will behind this so-called revolution or rebellion. They were merely crimes committed by the criminal Willet Christol.”
Finally, one citizen could no longer bear it and cried out,
“Then just die—!”
Willet closed his mouth, and the square’s attention turned toward the man.
A middle-aged man, face flushed red, pointed a finger at him.
“If you’re going to spout that nonsense, then die! Die as Willet Christol, the righteous outlaw!”
Others joined in, shouting in agreement.
“Why are you saying this, Willet Christol!”
“You… you… why say such things!”
“Don’t yield! You are—”
At that moment, Kyeon shouted, as if waiting for it,
“There! Rebels among them! Seize them!”
At his command, the security police moved instantly.
Seeing the situation, Willet hurriedly opened his mouth again.
“I am—!”
But his strained voice was not enough to drown the chaos.
The police beat the citizens, screams rising from all sides.
Gritting his teeth, Willet muttered,
‘It can’t go on like this. There must be some way….’
Looking down at his chest, he faintly sensed the chaotic tremor of mana, ruined by torture.
After a moment of hesitation, he resolved himself and opened his eyes wide.
*Flaaare—!*
Mana, frayed like torn scraps of paper, spread through his body.
Like the final flare of a dying candle, the refreshing surge of mana filled him, and Willet whispered,
‘This will be the last mana I use.’
With a bitter smile, he spoke again.
At that moment, the mana erupted into a resonance that swept across the square.
“I am—!”
“…!”
Citizens and police alike turned toward him in shock.
Even Kyeon, Arcane’s governor, looked startled.
With every eye fixed on him, Willet smiled gently.
“I cherish you all.”
“…!”
“But my deeds were without doubt unlawful.”
Turning, Willet’s gaze fell on Kyeon.
Their eyes met, and Kyeon flinched instinctively.
‘What’s with this bastard? Smiling in a situation like this?’
Then Willet dropped to his knees.
Startled again, Kyeon watched as Willet spoke.
“Lord Kyeon, new governor and mayor of Arcane.”
“……”
“I apologize to you.”
And he bowed his head.
Watching, Kyeon curled his lips.
“Finally realized your sin, criminal?”
“…Yes.”
“Fortunate you repent at death’s door. Now, admit it all. Everything you’ve done—all of it was wrong.”
His eyes glinted.
“Say it.”
Willet turned his head.
Despairing citizens filled his sight.
As he looked at them, he murmured inwardly,
‘Though I go like this, one day someone will come to restore freedom to Arcane.’
For that future, at least here and now, no one else must die.
Just as Willet opened his mouth—
Lightning split the sky.
*Crash—!*
Citizens gasped, police gawked.
Willet too raised his head toward the struck rooftop.
“…Julie?”
The child who had grown up in the Angel’s Home orphanage—now a young woman with a sword.
Stunned, Willet watched as more figures appeared.
Masked rebels of Arcane, mercenaries who had defied Dormund.
The square roared with commotion as Julie raised her sword high and shouted,
“From this moment, we rescue Willet Christol—Arcane’s hope!”
The dying flame had begun to burn anew.
—
—
The sudden arrival of Arcane’s rebels.
Among them were Professors Chizzy and Norse.
“My god… that’s Willett Christol?”
“His arms….”
They gaped at the sight of Willet kneeling on the scaffold, half-dead.
Angelina, standing beside them, was no different.
‘How could they do this to one man….’
Biting her lip, she rose to her feet.
Her tall figure drew every eye.
Seeing her, Kyeon sneered.
“Well, well… so the rat who once called herself mayor shows her face. Then Massius must have failed.”
Grinding his teeth, he roared,
“Security police, hear me—!”
“…!”
“From now on, no rules, no restraints! Hunt them with full force!”
His words ignited their eyes as weapons were readied—guns loaded, blades unsheathed.
Citizens shrank back in fear as the battle began.
*Bang—!*
Gunfire rang out as rebels leapt from rooftops.
“Don’t hold back! Kill them all here!”
Steel clashed with steel.
The square descended into chaos—citizens screaming, blood spraying as rebels and police clashed.
Julie lifted her head toward Willet.
There he was, an old man, slowly dying with both arms gone.
‘…Elder.’
She bit her lip, swallowing her tears.
Not yet. Not until she saved him.
Resolute, Julie vanished in a flash of light.
“…!”
From the scaffold, Kyeon snorted, then reacted instantly—striking the incoming streak of light with incredible speed.
*Boom!*
Julie crashed into the ground, coughing blood.
Watching, Kyeon sneered.
“Trying to pull tricks, girl?”
“…Kyeon.”
Wiping the blood, Julie stood.
Lightning sparked in her hands.
*Crackle—!*
Kyeon drew his gauntlets, his personal weapon.
They locked eyes—and collided.
*Crash—!*
Explosions boomed, battle raged across the square.
Willet watched, stunned.
‘How are the rebels here?’
Kyeon and Massius had moved up the execution date to lure them out.
He had expected they’d storm the underground prison, not the scaffold.
Yet they were here—early.
‘Did someone else steal the information?’
There was no other explanation.
Then, as Julie fought, Kyeon shouted,
“Begin the execution!”
“…!”
Even the rebels and citizens froze.
“Break their spirit! Execute Willet Christol now!”
The executioners, dazed, scrambled to lift their axes.
Angelina cried out, horrified,
“Stop the execution, everyone!”
Professors Norse and Chizzy, and all the rebels, rushed forward—but it was too late.
“…!”
Even Julie, with near-teleporting speed, was blocked by Kyeon.
Face twisted, she screamed,
“Elder Willet!!!”
Axes lifted.
Willet, watching familiar faces fighting, murmured,
“…At least I won’t be lonely, seeing known faces at the end.”
He smiled.
Everyone’s jaws dropped as the axes fell.
Willet cried out,
“For Arcane—!”
Lightning crashed down on the scaffold.
*BOOOOOOM—!!!*
The world turned white.
All noise was swallowed by silence.
“…?”
All eyes turned to Julie—she was the only one who could wield lightning.
But Julie herself stared blankly.
Who had done this? Another mage?
Questions swirled until a scream rang out.
“…Kugh!”
The executioners, charred black, toppled from the scaffold.
In their place stood another.
A man with rare black hair.
Julie and several others gaped. Willet too froze.
“…?”
He could not speak.
The black-haired man bowed slightly and whispered,
“Finally, I’ve met you, Elder.”
Smiling brightly, Arthur embraced Willet tightly.
“You promised to teach me to drink… so where did you leave your hands?”
At his words, Willet let out a low gasp.
“Arthur… Bayern?”
His most cherished mercenary had returned—after seven years.
—
